


Strange Magic

by JoeyTheMusician



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Banter, Enemies to Lovers, Humor, Love Potion/Spell, Multi, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, does anyone want to beta read this?, not really crack but maybe?, strange magic au, that's it that's the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26335468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeyTheMusician/pseuds/JoeyTheMusician
Summary: In a land divided between magic users (who live in the dark forest), and Camelot (where Uther's bitch ass lives), a thwarted heist by a foreign prince leaves Princess Morgana under the effects of a love spell unfortunately directed onto Merlin, the all-powerful, grumpy wizard that lives in the woods. Morgana's annoying brother, Prince Arthur and Leon travel to the woods to save her. Only, she doesn't want to leave. Merlin and Arthur begrudgingly start an alliance and go gallivanting through enchanted forests (haunted, obsessed with Merlin, etc), landscapes, and waters to meet with the Lady of the Lake. Things get overly complicated when there's no clear answer to Morgana's problem... and Prince Thomas is still planning Camelot's demise.And Arthur's totally not falling for the wizard, what, ah ha(sort of) Strange Magic AU: Merlin is the bog king, Arthur's the princess, no singing (my bad, almost no singing)
Relationships: Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Leon & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Leon/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> should i be doing this when school is starting and I'm taking 5 classes? no. am I? yes.

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away from reality and an ocean away from any reasonable people, there lived a prince. One could call him charming, given he was easy on the eyes and young and fit, but he was also a bit of a prat. Growing up with a psychotic, tyrannical father could do that to a boy.

The king wasn’t that bad, honestly, other than the condemning of thousands of innocents to a life of terror and exile, but you know. Little things.

Being banished to the Dark Forest- where magic flowers grew of their own will long before any man graced the Earth, so it wasn’t like Camelot was going to keep it in the divorce anyway- was much better than being burned. It was a miracle the king was appeased with just a new line on the map, though it may have also been his fear to tread those lands that hesitated any soldier from pursuing genocide. Hence, the magic users were safe, free to roam- just as free as Arthur was. 

Free to be confined to this side of the tree line.

Arthur had grown bored of his own thoughts, having long since zoned out of the meeting about cattle or something equally lame. It wasn’t as if he had a choice in anything, any say in what would be decided. If he went against his father, he would be hearing about it for the next ten years. It made everyone’s life easier if he didn’t have an opinion.

Maybe he’d be more charming if he didn’t pretend to be an airhead. Princess Morgana rolled her eyes from across the table.

She wasn’t like the young prince; her temper was painful to control. She didn’t have the will to pretend she was okay with half of what their father did to the people. Perhaps it was easier for the prince because he knew one day, for better or worse, he’d have the power to change everything.

Morgana’s faith in Arthur was sometimes the only thing holding them together.

“Morgana, perhaps you’d like to be dismissed early in preparation for tonight’s ball?” Uther asked.

It took every ounce of court training for Morgana to keep a straight face. She knew what he was doing. There was a royal family visiting and among them an eligible prince who had expressed his interest in her before. She couldn’t exactly respond by mentioning she’d rather unzip her inner organs breast to tailbone than marry that self-absorbed idiot, so she nodded. The smile that curved her lip was a familiar one, in its façade. Arthur knew it well.

“Yes, thank you, father.” She spoke, clear and concise. Arthur was jealous his sister got to be dismissed early. His back creaked from how numbingly still and straight he had sat for the last hour. He caught her eye as she stood to leave. An unspoken promise was there.

Arthur would do everything in his power to make sure she wasn’t married off- ever, and Morgana would make sure his throne was comfortably his. That was how it had always been.

* * *

The ball was just another game of pretend. When Arthur was little, he used to keep count of how many hands he had to kiss before he could leave. That way he could anticipate when it was almost over. Even now, a young man well into his twenties, he found the hours blending into each other.

His one blessing was Sir Leon, fellow knight and eligible young man who spent more time playing with swords than thinking about women. It helped that he was in love with his sister.

“Tell me this is as painful to watch as I think it is.” Arthur snarled.

Besides the mind-melting pleasantries, there was one other bother tonight. From across the hall, the two men could clearly see Prince Thomas poorly attempting to woo Morgana. There was a lot of awkward fussing, and glaring on her part. That didn’t stop the prince from trying another flirtatious comment. They couldn’t hear what he had said from over here, but the princess looked like she was two seconds away from stabbing him.

Leon grimaced. “Uther’s not going to force her to marry him if she really doesn’t like him. There are other princes.”

It was kind of pathetic that Arthur could hear the longing in his voice. He held himself back from scoffing. Love was one of those frivolous things that commoners spent too much time worrying about. He could hardly believe it when he realized Leon had succumbed to such a condition. Needless to say, he wasn’t concerned that he’d smell the roses any time soon.

“If it helps, I doubt Morgana plans to ever marry. It’d be hard to find a man who’d leave her the freedom she desires. I’m fairly certain she’d turn violent otherwise.” If Arthur sounded fond as he spoke of his sister, he wouldn’t admit it. She was a total witch, after all.

Leon continued to stare at her with cow eyes until Arthur cleared his throat. The knight looked at him, leaving his obvious response to such a theory unspoken. It was better this way because Arthur might actually throw up if he had to hear another confession of love.

The young prince didn’t have a good reason to be as apprehensive of affection as he was. He had grown up touch starved, with a father who had once been doting and caring and in love with his late wife, Arthur’s mother. Then something went wrong, and magic was outlawed, and Arthur’s mother was dead, and Uther was cold. What good was love then, if it just hurt everything it touched?

Sometimes he missed his mother.

“Oh- I’m so sorry, your highness.” A servant had bumped into him, nearly spilling the two drinks she had on her tray all over the prince.

He recoiled. In all his years living in the castle, he had never had a servant crash into him in that way. He glared at the young girl, someone unfamiliar, ready to reprimand her for such clumsiness, but she had already rushed away. He stared after her, mouth open.

Leon leaned over to whisper, “I’ve never seen her before, have you?”

The way he spoke, he was suspicious, on high alert already. To be fair, he was a knight, and he would take any excuse to bring his sword out. He had a point though; Arthur was irked by her behaviour. Inefficient servants didn’t last long in Uther’s castle. Maybe she was new, but it didn’t make sense, because serving food was allotted only to long-trusted servants.

“No, she’s- she’s headed to Morgana!” He whisper yelled.

Arthur felt fear slice through him, cold and slimy. He had this feeling in his gut, intuition or something else, that told him something wasn’t right with those drinks. Sure enough, the girl stopped by Prince Thomas and Morgana and started acting a perfect servant, head bowed and eyes downcast. Arthur was running before his sister had the chance to pick up her glass.

“Morgana! Don’t drink that.” He was making a scene, but it was too late now to worry about that. Leon had followed him and was now panting beside him. The prince sprinting across the hall wasn’t exactly what anyone would call ‘low key’, and they now had the attention of most of the guests.

Morgana looked at him, her face twisted into confusion and interest. While dying wasn’t on her to-do list, being poisoned would be more entertaining than listening to whatever Prince Thomas was talking about.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything, King Uther bellowed, “What is the meaning of this?”

Their father had made his way through the crowd quickly, as had a few guards. Looking back, Arthur wished this was where the excitement of the night climaxed. He would tell his father of his suspicions, the king would get some servant to drink whatever was in that glass, and if it was poisoned they would execute the serving girl and call it an attempt on someone’s life- Prince Thomas or Morgana, no one could be sure- but then everything would go back to normal.

Nothing would ever be ‘normal’ again.

In a booming crash of shattering glass and screeching winds, the hall lit up with artificial light. At first, Arthur couldn’t tell what had happened. The candlelight of the chandelier was extinguished in the gust of wind that hit them, and the screams that erupted overshadowed any other sound following. His hand went for the hilt of his sword, and he was endlessly grateful he never took it off for these things. Leon, the useless asshole, didn’t bring his sword to balls. Can’t imagine why.

“Oh, Thomas!” A deep voice rang out, melodiously. Arthur turned to the sound.

“Where’s my primrose, Thomas? The one you said you wouldn’t steal!” A hooded man, if he could be called that, was flying above them, in the gaping hole where there had once been a large glittering window. Deep blue, almost black robes wrapped him in darkness, his face difficult to see for it. It would’ve been hard to miss the glowing gold eyes though, and the sparks of blue light that now painted the party guests in an ominous glow.

That, and he was flying on a fucking dragon.

The breath rushed from his lungs like it had never been there in the first place. The young prince, along with most of the guests tonight, had never seen such a creature, nor such a blatant display of magic. It was unheard of, on this side of the border. Something told Arthur that this figure was not from around here.

Can’t imagine what pointed him to that conclusion.

Morgana was among the few who’s eyes lit up in awe, not fear. This would be an excellent time to mention, that though in hiding, and a princess of Camelot, she was indeed a _witch_. This was the first time she had seen a display of magic that was not her own. She had a sinking feeling this was going to be the best night of her life.

In a twisted way, she wasn’t wrong. But more on that later.

Now, it was time to pay attention to our dear Prince Thomas who was indeed quaking in his boots. Not a week ago he had trespassed into the Dark Forest under the guise of a lost soul looking for refuge from the nightmare that was Camelot. He had been foolish enough to take advantage of a wizard’s kindness.

“Guards!” Was Uther’s intelligent response. Really, what else was he supposed to do? Though the guards did flounder, uncertain exactly what they were supposed to do against a FUCKING dragon. Did I mention it was full size? Its gleaming smile was wider than the king was tall, and its beating wings sounded a thunderstorm up close. The overcast sky did little to illuminate the beast, and so the tail that currently curled back and forth like a satisfied kitty cat with cream was hidden from view.

Prince Thomas lunged forward without thinking and forced the contents of the gleaming glass, which in the darkness seemed to glow a little pink, into Morgana’s mouth. It was only a moment before she choked and pushed him away, the majority of liquid pouring down her front and soiling her dress. It was a moment too late.

This didn’t stop the guards that had been anxiously speed walking around in circles from rushing to the prince and restraining him. Uther wasn’t sure what he should focus on first. On one hand, his daughter had been forced to consume a questionable substance, on the other hand- dragon. I’d have to think about that one.

“Guards?!” The king yelled, though he wasn’t honestly sure why. It felt good to yell, though.

Leon ran over to Morgana, who had collapsed in a puff of pink tendrils of some glowing substance that looked suspiciously like sorcery. Arthur gasped, and would’ve made for her as well if it weren’t for the jarring yell that came immediately after.

“Argh- you idiot! Do you even know what you’ve done?!” The strange wizard changed his tune, the sparks of blue light turning red. Arthur felt like now was a good time to pull his sword from its sheath.

The man stepped down from his (his?) dragon onto a staircase made of glowing, iridescent ice that materialized under his feet. The whole thing was blowing Arthur’s mind. He had spent most of his memorable life being taught to hate magic, that it was evil, and so somewhere in his mind he knew this man was a threat, but fuck if that wasn’t cool as shit.

He stepped onto the floor of the ballroom, and all the guests who had not yet fled and were watching took an exaggerated step back. The wizard approached the prince, who had been forced to his knees, guards holding his arms behind him. As he approached, he walked by Arthur. The young prince of Camelot hesitated in stopping him, choosing instead to watch his figure. The golden eyes didn’t even flicker towards him, trained onto Thomas.

The wizard was hard to look at, in an unnatural way. Perhaps it was his unnatural nature (hah!) that made it so. In the same breath, Arthur could tell you it was hard to look away.

He was ageless, or maybe ancient, or maybe younger than the prince himself. The cloak was a fine velvet, with fine silver markings that were unfamiliar to the young prince, letters of a language he didn’t know. The sleeve of his robes fell down as he raised his hand, exposing a thin, pale wrist. There wasn’t much to see in the dim light, but the glow from the sparkling dots cast shadows on his features, making him look almost skeletal and entirely terrifying.

The king was ready to yell for the guards to arrest him again, but the hand that was raised just flopped to side like it was bored of the drama. As if on ice, the guards that were holding the kneeling prince slid over to where the king was. Arthur watched as they tried to keep their balance, helpless to stop the movement.

The wizard’s back was to him, and it wouldn’t be terribly difficult for Arthur to just step forward and stab him, but something told him he wouldn’t stand a chance. Call it what you will: intuition, common sense, logic, etc. He could only watch transfixed as the man spoke, quiet.

“I told you then, boy, as I tell you now. You have no idea the consequence of such magic. It doesn’t belong in anyone’s hands.”

Prince Thomas did more than take advantage of the kindness of an old wizard, he had done so with the intent to steal Camelot from the Pendragons in an oh so simple manner. He had stolen a primrose from the great wizard’s garden, the last place they were allowed to grow, and had brought it to a witch. He had given her a small fortune in gold for her assistance in creating an impossible love potion, one that was outlawed even within the realm of magic users.

The very love potion he had forced to Princess Morgana’s lips. If it hadn’t all gone to shit, by this time tomorrow he’d have had her hand in marriage, and within the year after a few unfortunate accidents, would’ve claimed the throne for himself. It was an ingenious plan, only, Thomas was not a genius.

And if you needed more proof, the prince jerked himself forward into a two-leg takeout. The wizard fell backwards with a huff, taken off guard. The dragon roared. Arthur almost shit his pants.

The sound caught him off guard, he turned his attention back towards the beast. Prince Thomas took this time to make a run for it. It appeared that the knights and his father could not move nor speak, and that left Arthur alone to deal with the two perpetrators. He raised his sword, but couldn’t decide where to stab it. Leon was still occupied; Morgana was dazedly sitting in his arms.

Should he run after the prince and leave them here with a wizard and a dragon? That didn’t seem like the right option. Arthur lamely pointed his sword towards the robed figure.

He scoffed, “oh, please. Put that thing away before you hurt yourself.”

He used a finger to push the tip of the sword to the side. The wizard eyed the prince up and down, getting his first good look at him. He bit his lip, not sure of what to make of the knight. He didn’t have to think too long, because arms wrapped around him in a huff of fabric as Morgana body-slammed him.

Arthur’s jaw dropped.

Morgana was not what you would call an affectionate creature. The prince was pretty sure he could count on one hand the number of times she had initiated a hug. It was part of the Uther parenting strategy. So he would’ve been certain that she had actually tried to restrain him for capture, only… she was snuggling him.

“What the-?! Get off me!” It was clear the wizard was not enjoying it. Morgana was honest to god purring into his side, which was making it difficult for him to stand.

Leon was watching with a gaping mouth. Had everyone forgotten about the dragon?

Arthur dropped his sword to his side, making a move to grab his sister. The wizard threw out a hand, throwing him onto his ass. His sword clattered onto the floor. Yep, magic was evil, forgot about that.

“Ugh!” The man grabbed Morgana’s wrists, stopping her frisking of his robes. She gazed into his eyes, mouth splitting into a dopey smile.

“Hey, baby.” Leon cringed. So did the wizard, who sighed despairingly. He blew air over the princess’ eyes, after which they slowly closed and she fell into his arms.

“Fuck. Okay, then.” He shook his head. Arthur struggled to get up, to grab his sword. He couldn’t begin to process what had just happened.

More of the iridescent, ice-like shards paved a path towards the dragon. Both Morgana and the man zoomed upwards in a shower of sparks. Arthur had to avert his eyes. He had to get his sword, he had to get Morgana, he had to- fuck- there was no time for anything.

“Goodbye, Camelot, Uther,” the wizard nodded to the king, “it’s been fucking horrid and I hope I never see any of you again! Let’s go, Kilgharrah.”

The beast took off, and the dashes of light with them. The hall was unbearably dark. Arthur heard the clatter of armour as the knights got their bearings, free to move again.

“Arthur!” He heard his father yell, anguished.

“Father, I’m here! I’m alright- but, Morgana-,” Arthur choked.

The king sighed, his face falling into itself. He whispered, but it felt too loud still.

“She’s gone.”

* * *

“We’re going to the Dark Forest?”

“No, Leon. We’re headed to the market to see if the _magic man with the dragon_ stopped to buy snacks. Of course, we’re going to the Dark Forest.” Arthur could see Leon glancing around, panicking. Sir Leon wasn’t like Arthur, he didn’t have a stupid level of curiosity or the burning need to risk his life every five minutes, so he had never before considered that he’d ever venture into the Dark Forest. To normal people, it was a daunting idea. There were rumours that once you entered, you would never return. This was oftentimes true but not for the reason the people of Camelot thought, so it wasn’t important to mention now.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid- Leon, he has Morgana.” It was like a switch had gone off; the way the knight’s eyes shuttered. He stilled, perfectly calm in the face of danger. Arthur would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t too worried about his sister to care. Leon nodded.

“Right, then.” He marched on ahead of Arthur, who let out an alarmed laugh and followed.

Uther had been impossible to convince. The king knew that his daughter had been taken to the Dark Forest, and yet he had called it like a death sentence. He hated magic so much, he thought that the moment Morgana entered those woods she was lost to them entirely. It was ridiculous and disheartening. He forbade Arthur from going after her.

Obviously, Arthur was going after her.

They snuck out, hours after the mess at the ball had cleaned up. The king and most of Camelot was asleep at this hour. Tomorrow they would mourn the princess. Arthur had no plans to do such a thing. She was still alive, for fuck’s sake. In the shadow of night, or early morning, the two made their way to the edge of the tree line.

The trees stood tall, overshadowing them. With only the moonlight to guide them, for they couldn’t risk torches, it was eerie still. Arthur would admit to hesitating. He looked over to Leon, who was also sizing up the Dark Forest, infinitely darker without the daylight.

Leon nodded to himself, before turning to look at the prince. “We’re doing this?”

“For Morgana.” He whispered. Arthur couldn’t afford to think of what she was going through if he wanted to keep a clear head for the journey. He didn’t even know how long it would take- they had flown and he was on foot- and there were so many other things he could concern himself with. Right now, however, he just had to think of his sister. What she was worth to him.

Leon reached over and grasped his hand, a beacon in the dark. It was only going to get darker. In a few hours, the sun would rise, and maybe things would be different then.

“We’re doing this.” They held a knuckle white grip for some time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the fuck is wrong with me. but I also can't tell you how excited I am for the sassiness to start >:)

“Please, _please_ , stop. Singing.” The princess had been singing horribly written love songs for the past hour. Merlin suspected they were written by her, possibly on the spot, for he didn’t pick her as the romantic type before all this shit happened. It didn’t help that she was tone-deaf.

She was just a victim in all this, and he had to sympathize with her. Plus, he could sense the magic in her bones. He appreciated the irony. The princess would never return to Camelot for her own good. Not that he was keeping her prisoner- though he was- but only because she was singing.

“Gaius, I’m going to kill myself.” The old man was laughing at him, but when was he not.

Gaius raised an eyebrow at him. “If you haven’t succeeded yet, what makes you think it’d work now?”

Merlin groaned loudly. He walked around his lair, carved inside an impossibly large tree, fiddling with his staff.

“I like her.” Merlin glared at Kilgharrah.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“You’re upset.” The dragon had a way with words. Merlin let out another audible sigh as croons of some ode to his existence coloured the background. The princess really tried with the high notes, but she did not have the range.

“I think he has a problem with the love thing.” Gaius stage whispered to the dragon. They were horrible company. Merlin couldn’t complain though, he was the queen of moodiness. At least they put up with him.

“I don’t have-!” He was yelling, and they were looking at him knowingly, he lowered his voice, “I don’t have a problem with the love thing.”

They had matching expressions. Merlin scoffed at them before going back to fiddling with his staff. Why did it feel like he was waiting for something?

Another obnoxious croon floated over them. Merlin groaned again, but this time he fell into a heap. Gaius walked over with the flower crown and tried to put it on his head. He batted it away.

“I get it- I get it, alright? I’m the drama queen, very funny.” They cackled at him.

“Maybe go talk to her?” Gaius wiggled his eyebrows. Merlin scowled. He opened his mouth to answer, but from somewhere a howl like a wolf’s answered for him. He closed his mouth. She gave up on the singing, then.

“I, for one, am glad love is amuck in your life again, warlock.” Merlin eyed Kilgharrah.

“Kilgharrah, please shut the fuck up.” That was not a conversation he wanted to have with Gaius around.

The old man raised his eyebrows in surprise, “…again?”

“No! No. We are not having this discussion. I’m going to go see the princess. You lot,” he pointed at them, accusingly, “behave yourselves.”

He pulled the folds of his robe to the side, swishing them dramatically as he made his way down the staircase. The wooden handrail slid effortlessly beneath his palm, smooth from years of use. The steps were made of the same rough material, lighter in colour and smooth marks of wear near the walking edge. As if calling to his discomfort, vines of small leafy plants curled around his feet.

He shook them off, swearing. Stupid sentient forest and stupid love spell. His hands gripped the rail, nails digging into the familiar groves. Streams of glowing light flowed from his hands through the lines in the wood, shooting upwards and downwards with an aggressive speed. The plants hissed, retreating in defeat.

“I’m fine, you overgrown stalks. What have I said about consent?” He shook his head.

Merlin made his way down to the cell that held the princess. It was a poor excuse for a prison, nor had it ever been one previous. He didn’t have many guests at all, much less anyone he’d wish to lock up. He had gotten comfortable with solitude. A nagging voice in the back of his head retorted that he wouldn’t have any of that any time soon.

“Darling!” The princess shrieked. He didn’t know her name, nor did he know her age. It’d only be worse if she was underage. Not that Merlin was remotely interested. Though undoubtedly and perhaps a bit ridiculously beautiful, the wizard had long lost his taste for romantic escapades.

The thing with love spells, especially when fresh, was that they destroyed a person. The more averse to love, the harsher the turnaround. There may very well be none of the princess left. The only option was to hope desperately that he’d find a cure.

“Princess, what did I say about the singing?” She pouted and threw herself at the bars, made of newly grown saplings. Merlin flinched, not certain that they wouldn’t break. If there was anything left that frightened him, it was the love spell.

“But you wouldn’t come to see me and I was lonely, my love.” Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke.

He sighed. It must be torture for her as well, to want something so desperately. He wished he could wave his hand and put her to sleep, but he wasn’t a fan of forcing people to his will. So, you had seen his temper tantrum earlier tonight, and yes, he had definitely broken a few of his own rules, but that didn’t excuse him from acting out now. Even enchanted, she wasn’t a toy to play with.

“I know, but aren’t you sleepy? You’ve had a long day, lots of excitement.” He shuffled his hands around, not meeting her gaze. God, this was awkward. He felt naked under her gaze, but he chose not to think about what she was probably thinking about.

She yawned, as if on cue. Merlin had to restrain himself from shouting in relief.

“But I want you.” She reached through the bars and grabbed the front of his tunic. He choked, taking a quick step back to escape her grip. She whined. Small yellow flowers grew through the fabric, impossibly vibrant and ruining the stitching. He scowled. Right, she had magic.

“A token of my affections.” Her blinks were slow as she gazed into his eyes, not sparing a glance at Merlin’s blushing neck.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise. Please, go to sleep.” She took a step back, falling onto the mushroom bed. Immediately, several plants crawled up and covered her legs with large leaves. He scratched the back of his neck. She didn’t look away from him.

“I’ll dream of you.” God, he hoped she didn’t. When it appeared she had closed her eyes for good, he walked away, stopping to gingerly close the doors to the quarters behind him. He was stopped by Janice, one of his fairy scouts.

“Merlin, we’ve found no trace of the prince in the woods. He’s still in Camelot.” He dragged a hand down his face.

“Thank you, Janice. Let me know if you hear back from the Lady.” Merlin was already turning away, expecting this conversation to be over.

She raised a hand, stopping him. “What?”

“There’s another prince coming.”

“What?!” Realizing his mistake in raising his voice with the sleeping princess close by, he shrunk down and whispered, “what do you mean?”

The fairy stood at his height, which was impressive given Merlin wasn’t short, and fairies by nature were. She leaned in as well, voice hushed.

“There’s a prince from Camelot on his way here, and he’s with a knight. I imagine he’s coming for his sister.” He watched as a rogue vine of ivy grew closer, listening in. He swatted it away. The forest already knew of every visitor, they just liked to bug him.

“What an idiot. I guess I’ll have to deal with him as well. On the other hand, he could babysit his sister for me. Oh, bugger. You don’t think he’s lost, do you?”

* * *

“We’re lost.”

“We’re not lost. We didn’t know where we going in the first place, ergo not lost. We just have to find someone and ask for directions.” Since entering the wood, Arthur had had the pressing sensation that they were being watched. They had yet to bump into anyone, and though there must have been eyes everywhere, all he could hear were leaves rustling. Every time he turned around to catch whatever was watching them, all he saw were branches shaking. It was getting old.

“We’re lost in the Dark Forest, we can’t go back to Camelot because even if we could find our way back, your father would disown you if you went back without Morgana, and we keep going forwards, but we don’t have horses, and I’m getting hungry-”

“Shh!” Arthur jerked suddenly, bringing a finger to his lips.

Leon glared at him. The night was dwindling now, and the prince suspected the sun was soon to rise. He wasn’t anywhere close to correct, but his notion gave him comfort. The Dark Forest wasn’t as dark as it was by the tree line. Wherever they were now had little glowing mushrooms growing on patches of moss, hanging off trees, low branches that hid the sky. The light of the fluorescent fungi, as well as the many odd bugs and butterflies, cast light enough that they could see their next few steps. It was enchanting, in a wicked sort of way.

The knight opened his mouth to say something, the exhaustion just absolutely shredding his usual filter. Arthur shushed him again.

The prince had caught notice of a few branches waving as if beckoning him. He wasn’t sure that the fumes hadn’t gotten to him. He patted Leon’s shoulder, who stared jaw dropped as the branches went from vigorously waving to aggressively straight in one direction. They look eerily like hands, branches twisted to look like pointed fingers.

“The trees are alive?” Leon brought a hand up to his head, feeling faint. He wasn’t so stupid to mindlessly consider any and all magical things evil, but he had spent a good portion of his life pretending he did. He debated pulling out a sword, but what good was fighting a tree. The knight just needed a nap, just a quick one. He’d revaluate his life tomorrow.

But then he remembered Morgana might not have a tomorrow. He straightened. “So, we’re going to follow the trees?”

Arthur had come to a similar conclusion. He wasn’t like the older knight; he barely remembered a time when magic was welcomed in Camelot. It only made sense now that the entire forest was alive, brimming with magic. No wonder he felt watched. The idea that everything he could see, even a single leaf from the forest floor, could have had him arrested for treason at home was dizzyingly mad. Could trees be evil? He couldn’t worry about that right now, his sister was still missing and they were a long way from home.

“Unless you have a better idea?”

And that was how the prince and his best man made their way deeper into the woods. Branches brushing up against them, sometimes shoving them forward if they turned the wrong way. The whole experience was only a little disconcerting. They still had a princess to save.

* * *

The sun had taken a day off apparently, for the sky was still a suspicious purple shade as they approached a large clearing. The trees were thinning out, being overtaken by enormous, towering mushrooms. The underside of the monstrous toadstools glowed in a similar fashion to the small budding ones back in the woods, but the light from above was alien and with no more trees to point them in the right direction, they were sitting ducks.

“Is there anything on this side of the border that isn’t magical?” Arthur yelled into the expanse. Pools of what the prince suspected weren’t water glowed in puddles around them. Leon dipped his boot into one experimentally and gasped when it turned neon orange, shocking in the blacklight. Never mind that the two of them had never seen that colour before.

“You called?” A few feet away from them, where Arthur swore he had just materialized, was a man. He looked human enough, dressed in a billowing white shirt and tight pants. His hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and he was flashing a scruffy grin.

Arthur lazily pulled out his sword, not really committed to doing anything. There was a puddle of that weird stuff between them and he didn’t have any plans to jump across. The man was toying with his own sword, but it looked like no sword Arthur had seen before. The knights of Camelot carried these monstrous things, sheets of metal with the edges of an axe. The man’s sword wasn’t more than two fingers wide, more of a prong that anything else. It had an ornate guard made of twisted strands of metal reminiscent of jewellery he had seen from visiting nobles.

“Who are you?” Leon had his own sword out, but it was pointed down. The man hadn’t actually made a threatening move despite his weapon.

His teeth gleamed oddly in the light, matching his shirt. Arthur didn’t try to guess why the light from mushrooms did such a thing, it wasn’t as if anything else they had seen had made more sense.

“Name’s Gwaine. You lot from Camelot, then? Nice jacket.” He eyed Arthur, paying extra attention to the fine detailing on the jacket he wore beneath his cloak. Arthur glared suspiciously, raising his sword an inch. This man couldn’t possibly wish to rob them when outnumbered.

“Relax, princess. I’m just surprised the pixies haven’t gotten to you yet.” His gaze flicked to Leon for a moment, before looking back at the prince. Still not technically threatening, but neither man felt inclined to relax their grip.

“I guess they can sense a man on a mission. What are you doing on this side of the border?” Arthur didn’t bother asking how he knew where they came from. For all he knew, to these magic users, he had it stamped onto his forehead.

“We’re looking for a man, a wizard. He flies on a dragon. Dramatic entrances, glowing eyes. He has my sister.” Gwaine’s eyes widened at the word dragon. He chuckled to himself, smiling fondly. He clearly knew who they were talking about and he didn’t seem remotely concerned that the man had taken his sister.

“That rat bastard. You leave him alone for a few months and he goes and crosses the border. _Without me_. Why can’t he just tell me when he’s going to go off on an adventure? He knows I’ve been dying for a good fight.” He waved his sword around as he spoke, shrugging and gesturing. He didn’t seem concerned with where the sharp end was pointed.

The two knights exchanged a look, unsure of what to make of Gwaine. He was friends with the wizard, or he thought of him fondly at least, so then was he evil?

They brought up their swords in unison. Gwaine smirked.

“So, that’s how it is, is it? Alright gentlemen, let’s go say hi to Merlin.”

* * *

Was it too much to ask for some peace and quiet? He lived in a forest, a bog if we’re being honest. He spent half his time gardening and the other half dealing with the whims of a dragon older than him. He didn’t ask to be involved with any sort of destiny, and he definitely didn’t pursue conflict.

Unless some entitled asshole stole his roses, in which case he went a little batshit, but I promise that’s not how he usually is.

“Nice flowers.”

“Oh, shut it.” Gaius wiggled his eyebrows as he crossed over the room. He was just in and out. Come to think of it, Merlin had no idea what the man got up to these days.

He absent-mindedly toyed with the flowers protruding from his chest. He didn’t have the heart to destroy them. He hated them though, absolutely disgusted by the affection. He didn’t ask for them. The flowers were staying.

Gaius came back, walking quickly with several bottles and three or four books precariously balanced in his arms. Merlin eyed him.

“What are you doing?” The man stopped, startled. He almost seemed guilty.

“I was trying my hand at an antidote. Or a treatment at least.” He was a physician, one that used to live in Camelot up until the divide. He had felt for him, a man looking for a quiet place to work, collecting herbs and practising magic. He helped others, healed people he had no responsibility for. Merlin admired that life, desperately wished he had some of the goodness he found in others. He hadn’t asked Gaius to leave, and now here he was 10 years later.

“Gaius, you know the Lady is the only one with the cure-” He was cut off by a loud crashing. He turned to investigate. It was quiet a moment later.

They looked at each other. Merlin shrugged. Maybe Kilgharrah had accidentally knocked something over with his clumsy tail. Seriously, that beast had no spatial recognition.

There was another bang, somehow louder this time. Merlin got up and walked towards the commotion, passing through several doors before he was in the library. More of the silence. A few clumps of flowering clovers burst through the wooden planks of the floor, curious as well. It wasn’t like the plants every minded their own damn business.

The doors burst open, and a familiar face ran at him. He brought up his staff in time to meet the sword attempting to slash at him. It was the blonde from the night before.

“Can I help you?” Merlin tried to think of what he could’ve done to warrant a sword in his face.

“Where’s my sister, asshole?” Ah. It would make sense that he’d be the prince. He didn’t look much like his sister, however.

Well, there was the strong jaw, and the blue eyes for sure. But where the princess was as fair as- well, Merlin, the prince clearly saw more sun. He was still white as fuck, though. Merlin pretended he didn’t notice how broad his shoulders were.

Arthur brought the sword up again, and Merlin ran a few paces back, climbing on a chair before meeting his swing with staff. He winced as he saw the wood start to chip. The prince was panting, red in the face. What was his problem?

“Your sister’s sleeping, dumb fuck. You’re going to wake her up with all this racket!” Arthur lunged for his side, but Merlin took another step back onto thin air. The iridescent plates formed under his feet catching him. Arthur jumped onto the chair. Merlin considered breaking his own rules.

“I’m here to take her home!” Arthur realized the sword wasn’t going to get him anywhere if the man just floated off the ground. He threw his sword to the side, and Merlin watched, confused before Arthur jumped on him.

“I don’t think she’ll be too happy to hear that.” The chair fell back, hitting the floor. Arthur was lying on top of the sorcerer, arms wrapped around him, but they hadn’t hit the ground. They were floating on more icy plate things. He lifted himself onto his palms, tilted his head at the man lying under him.

“What? What do you mean?” Merlin was not thinking of the proximity between them, nor the stray hair that fell onto the prince's forehead, or how vivid his eyes looked with his flushed face. None of those details crossed his mind, as he swallowed, his mouth dry. This man was trying to kill him, and he should really be more focused on that.

Arthur blinked as if waking up from some dream. It was the man from the ball, the same cheekbones and pale skin, but he looked different in the light of the lanterns. His hair was fluffy, dark and curled at the ends, like a child. He looked impossibly young, but from what Gwaine had described he had expected an old man. He thought maybe he didn’t get a good look at the ball, and he was right, but he was also very, _very_ wrong.

Suddenly it felt very awkward to be on top of him. As soon as he tried to move, the gold light in Merlin’s eyes swirled away into blue and the two of them fell onto the floor. There was groaning on both parts.

“I can’t believe you crossed the border without me!” Merlin shoved the prince off him. He glanced up to the doors, a familiar face playfully glaring at him.

“Gwaine!” He laughed. Arthur scowled, the sight of the sorcerer smiling made him impossibly irritated.

Leon was a few steps behind the man. He looked at Arthur and shrugged. The more time they spent in the forest the more magic was getting to them. As knights of Camelot, they should’ve been doing everything in their power to destroy the wizard, take Morgana no questions asked, and go, but here they were. Wasn’t there a dragon around here somewhere?

Arthur huffed, not able to watch Merlin greet his beloved friend. He clearly used magic to make himself cute and harmless looking. At the ball he had looked terrifying, and the prince wasn’t easily fooled. He was just as evil as the rest of them. What ‘rest of them’ Arthur was talking about, I do not know, but his confidence comforted him, so forgive him this time, because he was easily fooled.

“What’s wrong with Morgana?” He was so tired, and hungry, and he just wanted to see his sister. He’d figure out what to do about Merlin later.

The wizard looked back at the prince as if just remembering he was there. Gwaine patted him on the back.

“He says you kidnapped his sister?” Gwaine raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t that he thought they were lying, because Merlin did often do crazy things, but also this was _Merlin_. He didn’t steal princesses for the fun of it.

“I did, but, not really. Well, she’s enchanted.” Merlin couldn’t look the prince in the eyes.

“What?!” Arthur yelled. He looked around frantically for his sword, ready to go at it again.

“I didn’t do it, idiot. That bastard Thomas gave her a love potion.” The three men went white.

“He what?” Leon whispered. His eyes were huge.

Arthur felt sick. He had a feeling he knew what was happening.

Merlin shook his head, his expression unreadable. Gwaine knew love was a tricky subject with him, and love potions more difficult still. He watched the wizard grimace, still avoiding their gaze.

“I’ll explain everything, just put away the swords. When your sister wakes up, I’ll take you to her. I promise I mean no harm.”

Whatever Arthur had planned for his great rescue mission had gone out the window.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys... I've been misled, lied to, and downright bamboozled... this is going to be so much longer than I was thinking. slow burn? adventure? world-building? y not

Merlin pushed an open book towards them.

They were seated at the grand table in the library, which was on the second floor of the tree. Arthur hadn’t paid much attention to the first floor, having run up the staircase in a murderous rage and slammed through every door in a rush. Now that he was sitting with time to think, he marvelled at the size of this place.

It was a giant hollow tree. Everything was made of wood or plants or something entirely unfamiliar. The floor followed a concentric circle pattern, reminiscent of tree rings, but Arthur doubted that this had been a real tree. Vines danced along the walls, crawling in unison to a heartbeat rhythm. There was an impressive collection of books organized onto endless bookshelves and even more piles of them on the floor.

“Primroses used to grow everywhere. Now they only grow in my garden.” On the open page was a drawing of a four-petaled flower. It had a yellow center that bled into a white ring. The edges were pink, and the petals had these straight grooves lengthwise. Arthur had never taken an interest in cataloguing all the flowers of Camelot, but he’d confidently say he’d never seen one before. He’d say the same thing about a common lily or dandelion, so it didn’t mean much.

“Most plants don’t have any of their own magic, but these flowers can be brewed by a bush witch to create the most perverse love potion you’ve ever heard of. It’s illegal in every land.” Leon swallowed.

Arthur watched the vines move. He was pretty sure every plant he had come across on this side of the border had magic, but he also didn’t know what he was talking about, so he just shut up.

This wasn’t Gwaine’s first telling of the story, so he sat laid back watching the others. The decent knight looked sick, which was an interesting reaction. The princess didn’t seem too bright, he spent most of his time glaring at everything.

For the first twenty minutes of their journey to Merlin’s Tree, they had held him at sword point. After ensuring that he wasn’t magical and that he had no bad intentions- regarding them at least- they had let him walk freely. They were baffled that anyone would choose to live here with magic users, and he tried to explain that he only stuck around for Merlin. Any mention of the man brought the swords back up. He wasn’t surprised that Arthur launched himself at the man upon arrival.

“What’s a bush witch?” Leon asked. Merlin refrained from sighing.

“Someone with very little magic, just enough to create simple potions. Not enough to perform any spells.” Leon nodded. He had no idea what the difference between performing a spell and making a potion was.

Merlin eyed him, looking over at the prince after. He looked bored.

“The love potion works immediately. It targets the first person they see, erasing every part of them that won’t fit and leaving a shell capable of only blind devotion.” Arthur and Leon exchanged a look, both panicking. There wasn’t much of Morgana that fit the bill for _blind devotion_.

“Is there any way to reverse it?” Leon sputtered. His voice was louder than he intended.

Merlin winced. “There might be. I’ve been trying to contact the Lady of the Lake because the journey there isn’t easy. She’s the only one who knows the cure.”

Both knights let out a relieved sigh. There was hope then. Merlin tugged at his sleeves.

“The spell starts with this impossible yearning. Victims are difficult to console. After the initial phase, if their feelings aren’t reciprocated, they become,” he shook his head, “… dull.”

“Dull?” Arthur asked. Merlin nodded.

“They lose touch with reality. Don’t speak when spoken too. It’s hard to watch.” Arthur slumped forward. His face was creased with stress.

“There’s nothing else you can do tonight.” Merlin watched the other knight pale, dark circles under his eyes.

“You guys should rest.” Leon’s stomach rumbled obnoxiously.

Gwaine laughed, kicking his chair back and standing up. “Maybe a meal first?”

* * *

Leon had gone to sleep, given some makeshift room near Morgana’s. He didn’t know and he didn’t care where Gwaine was. Arthur’s belly was warm from the soup Merlin had _kindly_ given them, after making some comment about the lot of them dropping dead from starvation. He couldn’t find it in him to sleep. The prince chose instead to watch Merlin’s every move, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“So, what is it you are actually planning?” Merlin sighed, muttered a prayer for strength, and dropped his glasses down his nose to peer at the prince.

They were in his study, and Arthur was sitting with his arms crossed in some mushroom chair that curved unnaturally around him. The vines wouldn’t stop touching him.

“I am planning to finish writing this and then go to sleep. How about you?” Merlin pushed his glasses back onto his face with practised fingers before going back to his work. Arthur huffed.

If he closed his eyes, he felt the lull of sleep. It wouldn’t be difficult to pretend everything was okay and that he was back at home. That Morgana was still herself, and that Arthur wasn’t in a ton of trouble. It seemed impossible that the sun hadn’t risen yet. This was the longest night of his life.

“I don’t feel comfortable sleeping around such magic.” He spat out the word, angry and tense.

Merlin glared at him. He took his glasses off. Arthur stood up, ignoring the way the vines tugged at his limbs, begging him to sit down again.

“What’s your problem with magic?” Merlin shoved his chair back, moving to stand as well. He thought he explained the situation and that they had the same goal.

“It’s evil! It’s disgusting how you can live with yourself.” Arthur’s face set into a stony glare, not unlike his father. For a moment it was like it was young Uther in front of him all over again.

Arthur’s head was pounding. He just wanted something to make sense.

“I’m not going to have this discussion with a brainwashed cabbage head.” He scoffed. Merlin should sit down.

They were almost toe to toe. Arthur then scoffed.

“Me, brainwashed?” He raised his eyebrows mockingly, “you spend every day of your life meddling with sorcery, letting it eat away your soul. How am I the brainwashed one?”

Merlin’s jaw dropped. He felt his blood pressure rising, pounding in his ears. How was he supposed to dignify that with a response? He tried counting to ten. Arthur was just a victim of his father’s teachings; he only spoke because he didn’t know better and Merlin wasn’t going to make the situation worse. Tomorrow he’d lay down some ground rules and they’d learn to work together.

Arthur was having a bad day. He pointed a finger at him, accusingly.

“All you sorcerers are the same. You don’t care about the lives you meddle in. You’re unfortunately inconvenienced that my sister latched onto you, but you don’t care that she might be lost from me forever. Magic already took my mother and I won’t let it happen again. We’re going to fix this, and then you’ll be grateful I let you leave with your life!”

“God, you’re such a prat!” Merlin was a second away from pulling out his hair. This probably wasn’t the time to mention that he might be immortal.

“Stop calling me that!” Arthur wanted to throttle him. Anything, to get this creeping sense of loss away.

“Why? Because your daddy’ll come and hurt me? Oh, I’m so scared.” God damn it, Merlin. Don’t goad the unstable knight.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a big boy, I’ll hurt you myself.”

“You tried that, remember? How’d you like it if I fought back this time?” If Kilgharrah were here he’d roll his eyes. Merlin didn’t do roughhousing.

“Then fight me, you coward. You act all-powerful and frightening but you haven’t laid a hit on anyone since we’ve met.” _Please fight me_. Arthur could really use a distraction.

“Oh, I’ll land a hit on you alright.” Merlin haphazardly threw a fist. He wasn’t trying to hurt him; it was like a game. This push and pull was weirdly cathartic. If he actually wanted to hurt him, he’d blast him into next week.

Arthur grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. He grinned. The idiot didn’t have any grace with his movements, his balance was off, and his elbow went way out. It was pathetically easy. Merlin threw Arthur to the wall with a gust of wind. The prince groaned at the impact.

Merlin turned around and brought a finger up to his chest. “I didn’t think you could get any stupider.”

“Me neither, and yet every time you open your mouth, I’m proven wrong.” Arthur snarled.

Merlin shook with anger, “Listen here, _clotpole_ , you’re nothing in these woods. You’re just another lost boy with a sword and a head too big for his shoulders. This is my home. You will not speak ill of magic here. Maybe you’ve missed the memo, but I _am_ magic, so excuse me if I take personal offence to your slander.”

Arthur’s mouth dried. The sorcerer’s eyes were glowing again.

Merlin was panting, and he was angry. He was burning in a way that was so unlike him. He had been less angry that night in Camelot, for fuck’s sake. It felt good though. There was something about Arthur that pressed him the wrong way.

Arthur was not aroused, he was _not._ It was another one of Merlin’s tricks, to confuse him, to humiliate him. This stupid urge to grab him, and press _him_ up against the wall was just madness. He had gone mad, having spent too much time on this side of the border. His father was right, as soon as any man crosses, he’s as good as gone.

“Yeah? Well, you’re an idiot. And your ears are too big.” Arthur’s cheeks burned. The moment Merlin let up on his magic restraints, he’d run for it. He’d run all the way back home and pledge himself to Camelot. He’d spend the rest of his life pursuing magic’s persecution, purging the image of Merlin from his memories.

Merlin leaned back. Arthur could breathe again.

“You can spend some time here, thinking about what you’ve said.” He turned away and left his study, leaving Arthur yelling against the wall. He closed the door behind him.

This prince was somehow more irritating than his sister, and his sister was… well it was a good thing she was still asleep. Merlin groaned aloud, ever the drama queen. A tree branch patted his head, leaves falling around his face onto his shoulders; he shot it a dark look.

In all his years, his some 130- 140 years, he had never acted so juvenile. He tried to be peaceful, he would dare say he even tried to be good sometimes. He had never had any temper problems. Did he have mood swings that showered the wood in thorn bushes? The occasional bad day that led to an infestation of poison ivy? Yes, he was only human. Well, he wasn’t human, he didn’t think so, but sort of.

He may look young, but he was old. Bone deep tired, and a musty kind of age that smelled bad. If he didn’t move from one place for too long, he’d start to smell his own corpse. Maybe that was the consequence for parting with most of his magic. Maybe he was rotting.

Gaius placed the flower crown on his head, as Merlin melted into his chair. He took a seat beside him and smiled at him tenderly.

“Merlin.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m the drama queen. You didn’t hear the prince, though. He’s like a miniature Uther.”

Gaius sighed, knowing what it meant to deal with the old king of Camelot. He shook his head.

“I know you’re older than I am, but I’ve always thought of you as my son. I have marvelled at times, the extent of your existence. It’s mind-boggling, because you are this great wizard, ancient and all-powerful, and you are also just a boy.”

Merlin shot his eyes up to meet his, surprised. Gaius took his hand.

“You have yet to greet your greatest challenges and your greatest feats. I have complete faith in you as a force of nature. But I worry about you, as a man. Why are you so unhappy?”

The question rang in his ears.

* * *

Morgana was drooling on Merlin’s shoulder. Leon looked like he’d prefer burning alive.

Arthur had spent a horrible night glued to the wall in Merlin’s study. He did fall asleep and was probably asleep for hours, but the magic hadn’t let him free. He woke up with flowering vines wrapped around him, sickly sweet-smelling and blooming like it was spring. He had fallen immediately after, landing in a bush that hadn’t been there the night before. He probably still had leaves left in his hair.

He had yelled for Merlin, running around aimlessly before bumping into Gaius in the room across the study. The old man had introduced himself and mentioned something about breakfast, but Arthur demanded to see Morgana first.

It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten because he might have thrown up.

Morgana was clinging to Merlin’s shoulder like it would kill her to part with him. She fluttered her eyes up at the wizard, commenting on how beautiful he was in the morning light. There was no light down here from any sun, given they were underground, but no one corrected her. Merlin looked uneasy.

He wasn’t in the robes he wore yesterday. He was dressed in a slate grey tunic and worn slacks. He looked like any peasant you’d find in Camelot. This irritated Arthur, but worse still when Morgana kept tugging at them. Merlin said she was worse yesterday, but he just couldn’t fathom that. She dragged a finger down his front, giggling. Merlin shot a panicked look to Arthur. The prince just glared at him.

“Are we going for breakfast, love?” She drawled. Leon flinched.

The knight understood that the princess was enchanted. He wasn’t jealous. It was just heartbreaking every time Morgana spoke and she wasn’t the Morgana he knew. He missed her, with her but a few feet from him. He had to be strong. This led to the constipated look on his face.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin kept acting like this was a nightmare for him, to have a beautiful princess drape herself across him. He still kept up this cute, bumbling act and it was getting old.

“We have some porridge upstairs. You’re going to have to let go of me for a moment, okay?” Merlin gingerly lifted up the hand that was on his chest and tried to peel her away from him. She sighed and dug her head into his shoulder. Gwaine’s eye lit up at the mention of food. Arthur’s did not.

“Porridge?” He had never had that commoner’s meal before. There were some days where all he had were stale bread and water, when he was thrown in the dungeons for a night, or out on difficult quests. He wasn’t sure he knew what porridge was.

Merlin glared at him, noticing the exaggerated disgust. He almost forgot about the entitled prince in his midst.

“Oh, I’m sorry your highness. Would you prefer to eat dirt? We’ve got loads of that out back.” He huffed and turned quickly, dragging the princess with him. It was easier to deal with her.

Arthur watched him walk away, his jaw dropped. Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows at him, smirking.

“What?” He barked at him. Leon looked between them; an eyebrow raised.

“What? What are you guys looking at?” Gwaine snickered.

“Don’t worry, princess. That’s him flirting back.”

Arthur choked. “No, I’m not- we’re not- I wasn’t flirting! I was complaining about breakfast! Leon,” He looked to him for back up. 

Leon avoided his eyes.

“Oh, come on. That’s crazy. We were glaring at each other!” He threw his hands up.

Gwaine raised his eyebrows and trailed his gaze away, his lips still curled in that accusing smile. Leon coughed. He met his gaze.

“Breakfast, sire?” Arthur huffed. He pointed a finger at both of them.

“I hate that man; do you understand me? He had he pinned against the wall all night!”

Leon’s eyes widened, and his lips parted in surprise. Gwaine started cackling violently, bent over gasping.

“No, not like that. I mean with magic, you- argh!” They were blind. Clearly, he and Merlin were natural enemies. Clearly.

* * *

“Your majesty!”

A knight in chainmail armour and a bold red cape ran into the throne room. King Uther paused, for this was not usual behaviour. His stomach sank. He didn’t know how things could get worse.

Last night had been devastating. He had lost both of his children to the dark forest in the span of hours. He was still processing, determining his best course of action. Every squadron he had ever sent into the dark forest, many years ago, had never returned. Not even a letter or a bone. He had no illusions to what savages all sorcerers were.

“The servant girl still hasn’t been found. There is worse news, sire.” The knight sputtered, red and sweating.

Uther was tired. Today, he didn’t have the energy to yell. Tomorrow, maybe he’d clear his head. He sighed.

“Out with it, then.” The knight swallowed.

“Prince Thomas has escaped Camelot, and now that there are no heirs,” He paused.

The king glared at him. He shook his head, downcast his eyes.

“…in Camelot, there are rumours he’s going to amass an army. Sire.”

* * *

“So, about this lake lady. How much longer do we have to wait?” Arthur was nursing his bowl of sludge. The problem with growing up in luxury was that he couldn’t stomach peasant’s food. He’d be okay with bread and water. When his hunger got really bad, maybe then he’d ask for some.

For now, he was content to glare at the sorcerer sitting across from him, who was spoon-feeding his sister.

He tilted his head, pursing his lips. “Well, I haven’t talked to her in a long time. It might be a couple weeks. Maybe more or less. I have no idea actually.”

“A couple weeks! We can’t stay here that long! Why don’t we go visit this lady and demand an answer?” Arthur stood up quickly. The bowls clanged on the table.

Merlin sighed. The prince was determined to be difficult every step of the way.

Morgana peered at Merlin curiously, tilting her head. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Argh! Don’t you see? We don’t have weeks!” He pointed to Morgana.

“Just look at her!” They all looked at her.

The princess didn’t respond in any way. It was as if she didn’t hear Arthur. She tucked a hair around Merlin’s ear. He waved her hand away.

“The journey to the Lake of Avalon is difficult.” Merlin and Arthur glared at each other, as was becoming the norm.

Gwaine piped up. “We could fly on the dragon!”

Arthur and Leon shot him horrified looks. Kilgharrah snorted from where he was curled up.

“I’ll eat you if you try.” Merlin glared at the dragon.

“You will not eat anyone.”

“Yes, mother.” The dragon huffed a puff of smoke towards them. Arthur didn’t pretend to understand their dynamic.

“How long will it take us to get to the lake?” He pressed.

Merlin shifted about. He wrenched Morgana’s quick hand off his thigh. “A few days, maybe. If we don’t run into trouble.”

“And if we run into trouble?” Leon asked, ever the realist. He couldn’t look away from Morgana’s eyes. They were empty and unfamiliar. The question was merely a formality, they would be going no matter what. They had walked into the dark forest knowing the risks.

“Then we might not get there at all.”

Gwaine stretched, sighing loudly. He grinned. “You know, I was just thinking it was time for another adventure.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way i am splitting this up into chapters on ao3 is just word count.. when I make the story all pretty I'm thinking it won't really be split into chapters so much as "acts". with this update we are into act ii.

“Let’s leave as soon as possible.” The sooner they got back to Camelot the better.

“We can leave tomorrow morning.” Merlin was pouring a coloured liquid through an impressive array of glass tubes. It changed from a red to a blue, before funnelling out at the end in a ground-glass test tube. He wore strange bulbous glasses and another robe, only this one was royal purple. Unlike the other robe, this one was made of a thin material, similar to the textile that peasants used but infinitely finer. 

“Why not today?” Arthur was standing several feet away, in the entryway of Merlin’s study. The wizard had screamed at him to stay back when he first attempted to barge in here.

“Arthur,” He looked up, sighing, shaking his head, “what time do you think it is? We went to sleep with the sunrise.”

He leaned back over the desk, examining the test tube. He shook his head again, and with a whirl of his finger, the fluid retraced its steps and turned back to red.

“I- what are you doing?”

“I’m _trying_ to isolate a compound found only in exotic bush flowers to produce a concentration of anti-inflammatories but for some reason, the acidity of the solution compromises the-”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry for asking.” Arthur held up his hands, unnerved. He hadn’t understood half of those words. Merlin huffed.

Breakfast had only been a few hours ago. Leon was now babysitting Morgana, who was moaning and groaning about being parted from her beloved last he heard. Arthur had insisted that he had no responsibility to do so and that Morgana probably wasn’t conscious enough to appreciate loneliness, but the knight had shaken his head.

Arthur had done some silent investigation. He was determined to figure out the wizard. The library was filled with nonsense books in languages he couldn’t read, though there were plenty of pictures to determine it was all plants and magic. Some books had symbols he had never seen used in a mathematical context, and those books he put down very fast. The books he could read were fairy tales, and he was beyond confused as to why Merlin would keep those.

Arthur had eventually gone to Gaius begging for some bread and water, and he had, thankfully, provided. He had then interrogated the old man as to Merlin’s intentions but had only received a disappointed stare.

Gwaine had offered to spar with him, and that had been an attractive ask, but he had refused considering he should be saving up his energy for the journey ahead of them. So, he went back to doing what had worked best to pass the time; stalking Merlin.

He furrowed his brow, thinking. “What time _is_ it?”

Merlin sighed, waving a hand at his glassware, and then taking off his goggles. He walked fast, brushing past Arthur in the doorway. The prince was far too aware of the other man’s proximity, even for the meaningless passing moment. He watched as Merlin approached an unfamiliar door, and opened it.

“I know there’s not much natural light in here, but I do have a balcony.”

“And how was I supposed to know?” Arthur followed him out. He was surprised to see that it was night time. It made him dizzy in a way, to be so out of alignment with the rise of the sun. The moon was big and bright, a cool light in comparison to the warmth inside. This hadn’t much consequence but paint Merlin in a literal ‘different’ light.

His eyes and hair matched, a dark hazy black. The features of his already angular face were further exaggerated by the harsh shadows. He looked less human and more mythical.

Arthur sucked in a harsh breath, catching himself. He didn’t understand why he kept staring at the wizard. He was the enemy, and whatever wicked charms he’d put in place to make him appear anything other than, were just illusions. The prince was lucky that they had a common goal, but he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking he was safe.

Merlin glanced over at him, shrugging. “I’m no wise man but, I’m pretty sure it’s night time.”

“Whatever gave you that idea, Merlin.” He rolled his eyes and walked closer to the ledge. He could see the enormous roots of the tree braided into the dirt. He watched as rabbits, birds, and deer and other common animals waltzed around. His face twisted in confusion, because one, it was night time, and two, he had not seen any of these animals on his way here.

Merlin paused. He noticed the weird inflection with which Arthur said his name, almost endearing though he couldn’t imagine it was intended so. It was still his name, but it was odd. Teasing. He rolled his eyes.

“I know you’re a bit slow on your own, but generally the moon is a good indicator.”

Arthur was no longer invested in whatever vocal sparring match they were having. He was watching a chipmunk that was riding on the back of an elk, dumbfounded.

Merlin took a step forward, leaning on the rail beside Arthur. He noticed his expression.

Merlin didn’t dare think of the prince as beautiful. He was a rude, spoiled, royal brat, and beauty came from within. Unfortunately, he was also not blind, and the prince did look like a painting shrouded in blue hues. He looked away too quickly.

“What is it?”

“When we were on our way here, there was no… animals.” He winced at his diction.

“You just spooked them. Probably stomped your graceful way through the forest.” Arthur shot him a quick glare, but it wasn’t heated. Merlin sort of reminded him of Morgana.

The reminder of his sister only worsened his mood. He sunk into himself.

Merlin pursed his lips. He was only trying to lighten the conversation; he wasn’t actually intending to insult the man. On one hand, he felt like microwaved shit, because the prince was having a hard time and he was being childish. Then again, he was also pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to care about the prince’s feelings.

“I…” he started. He sighed. Arthur looked over, his face set into serious lines. Merlin tried to brush off his gaze.

“I don’t want to be evil.” He grimaced. That was a bad way to start.

Arthur shot him an incredulous look.

“No, I mean. I am magic, but I’m not evil. I think. I don’t want to bring you, or your friends, or your sister harm. I just want to help her and then… I want peace and quiet.” Arthur scoffed at that last bit, shaking his head.

“I don’t understand you, Merlin.” He opened his mouth to rebuttal, but Arthur wasn’t finished.

“You keep talking and acting like you want to be- I don’t know- a monk? A gardener? But I see the way you act, how you speak. You have the temperament of a noble, and, and, the-” he waved his hands around, turning his feet towards him.

“flare for drama? I don’t know, but you- you know what I mean. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy this back and forth. Just because there’s no blood drawn doesn’t make it not a fight.”

Merlin was starring at him, jaw dropped. Arthur told himself not to blush, dared himself not to. He had to stand up to the wizard or he’d spend the next few days bottling it up. He swallowed.

“I know a fighter when I see one. You’re evil on principle,” he paused. For some reason, it felt wrong to say that, but Arthur couldn’t focus on that right now.

“Which is unfortunate,” he looked down over the rail. What was he talking about? It was hard to think with Merlin staring at him. He scratched his forehead, before catching the nervous tick and throwing his hand down. He licked his lips.

Merlin was still staring at him.

“Can you- Do you understand?” He wouldn’t look up. His heart was pounding, and his skin felt uncomfortably warm on his chest. Seriously, did he have a point he was supposed to be making? He spent one whole second considering jumping off the balcony.

Merlin shook his head, dazed.

After a beat, he whispered, “you think I’m plotting?”

Arthur swallowed. His breath was a little ragged and he felt a headache coming on. This would be the time to eloquently wrap up his speech and walk away.

“I think…you’re lying to _me,_ or you’re lying to yourself.” Arthur blinked as if just realizing that Merlin could actually be the latter.

He shook that thought away immediately. Merlin was a sorcerer, of course he was lying to him. He had seen the way he barged into the ballroom, threatening and bigger than life. It wasn’t something he’d be quick to forget. Arthur would just continue watching him, waiting for him to slip up. Hopefully, it would happen after saving his sister, and then he would make his way back to Camelot a hero for having slain an evil sorcerer.

Again, a weird pang of an unfamiliar emotion hit him. He looked at Merlin.

Merlin was still staring at him, slack-jawed. It made Arthur angry.

“Would you stop it?!” He gritted his teeth and stomped back inside.

Father was right, the Dark Forest was a place of madness.

* * *

“Gaius! Gaius, you wouldn’t believe what he said. He thinks I’m some evil genius that’s pretending to be polite…or I think that’s what he meant.” Merlin wasn’t going to go after him and ask for clarification. Even if, maybe there was a tiny part of him that wanted to.

Gaius raised his eyebrows, looking up from where he had been reading. After taking a moment to collect his jaw off the floor, he ran for Gaius’ quarters across the hall. It had only been last night, or rather this past morning, when he had last cried to him about Arthur.

Gaius wasn’t remotely surprised. He looked back to the page he was reading while he spoke.

“He called you dramatic, and you are.” Merlin paused, dropping his shoulders that he hadn’t noticed were tense.

“You heard?” Gaius didn’t look up.

“Merlin, my window is open.” He gingerly flipped the page. “Please consider going to bed.”

Merlin stared at him. Gaius and Kilgharrah always joked about him being dramatic, but it always felt like a joke. He felt wrong-footed, in a way.

Gaius sighed and put his book down. He let his glasses slide down his nose.

“Look, if you like the prince, why don’t you just tell him?”

“Tell him-! I don’t like him. Why do you think I like him?” He rushed the last sentence. His hands shuffled awkwardly in front of him.

Gaius sent him a long, blank look. He sighed again, and Merlin thought that it was more for effect than anything else. He picked up his book again and continued reading.

“Please consider going to bed.”

Merlin bit his lip.

He had a difficult time falling asleep that night. His mind strayed, overthinking the journey to come. There was no way to know what they’d encounter in the forest, and then there was the crystal valley that he’d have to explain, and there was only more to consider after. He wasn’t excited to see the Lady again.

When that wasn’t enough, he played the words back in his head. Arthur had called him a fighter. Was he? There was a time when he thought he’d become someone great. Back when the druids filled his head with prophecies and destinies and fluff. Then he’d gone and screwed it all up. Now, he was a semi-immortal loner whose only family was a bitter dragon.

Gaius thought he liked the prince. He would’ve scoffed, but he was alone and he wasn’t as sure as he was before. Arthur was horribly annoying, entitled, temperamental, passionate, hot-headed, hot in general- he stopped himself there. It was pointless to think about him. Merlin didn’t do flings like Gwaine did, and he _definitely_ didn’t do love. The tiny part of him that acknowledged he was attracted to him shrivelled up in shame.

Arthur hated him, barely tolerated him enough to leave him in peace, and here he was thinking of reasons why he shouldn’t try anything. He was embarrassing himself, considering that his refusal was worth anything to the prince. They weren’t even friends, nor would they likely ever be.

He watched the constellations dance over his head. Perhaps this adventure would be good for him.

* * *

Down several flights of stairs was a troubled knight, seated awkwardly across from an enchanted princess. Morgana was behind bars, and earlier she had been wailing for Merlin, but she had no more fighting spirit left. She stared off into space with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her cream, gold, embroidered dress was creased at odd angles, and her hair was sticking up oddly in some places.

Leon thought that the pins must have pulled on her scalp, and even if she did not have the consciousness to take them out herself, they must have been uncomfortable. He had spent an hour attempting, with thick shaking fingers, to undo the updo. Her hair fell in asymmetrical waves, crimped and oily. He tried to brush it with his fingers, but it didn’t do much.

Her lipstick had smeared across her mouth, but most of it was wiped away with breakfast. He still took a warm wet and cloth and cleaned it off. He didn’t know what else to do.

“I can’t imagine Camelot without you.” His voice was hoarse. He held the pins in his hands, pearls and other knickknacks he didn’t recognize. He rolled a jewel between his fingers.

“When Arthur said he was coming after you,” he huffed a breath that was almost a laugh, “well, it was a good thing because I wasn’t excited to go alone.”

Morgana didn’t move. His stomach clenched.

“I miss you.” He winced. That was selfish on his part. Many people missed her, that went without saying. Here she was, suffering, and he was talking about himself.

“Camelot needs you. Who else will stand up to the nobles?” He did laugh then, a sad distorted sound. He hung his head.

“I promise you; we’ll find a way to reverse this.” He would, whatever it took. He was ready.

* * *

Arthur woke up early, despite his late start to bed. The odd mushroom bed wasn’t uncomfortable but he hadn’t been able to shut his brain off. It was too easy to spend hours overthinking the last few days, the last few hours even. He had always been temperamental, but even he did not understand why the sorcerer irritated him so much.

There were several factors he considered, the first being the glaringly obvious magic. The man had magic. Arthur knew, and had been taught, that this meant he was evil, but he also hadn’t much experience with magic. The first time he could remember seeing magic was at that ball yesterday night. This led to many conflicting feelings, confusion and discomfort, but not irritation.

He considered that the wizard was rude, but that was only half true. He had been rude to Arthur but had acted a perfect gentleman with Leon and Morgana. In fact, he had been sympathetic to Morgana’s condition despite his discomfort. Maybe Arthur shouldn’t have been so quick to judge him. Maybe Merlin was just a moron, and Arthur was looking too much into his actions.

But that didn’t make sense to him, because Merlin was clearly an academic. Moreover, looking back, it seemed as if the animosity had started on Arthur’s behalf. Well, at first, he was upset because he thought he had kidnapped his sister. Then Merlin had been impersonal and polite for the most part, until he fought with him in his study, and then he had been less so.

Yet, the irritation had started before that. Arthur tried to think if he had been so itched by the man before, when he was waltzing through the forest, but he couldn’t remember. So, he didn’t know why, but for some reason, just the thought of the wizard pissed him off.

Earlier, on the balcony, he had been vexed. The heart racing and the nervousness, surely that was fear. He tried to gauge if he was honestly afraid of Merlin. It was weird because perhaps he was, but not for the reason he would’ve thought. In fact, it seemed convoluted and all too complicated, that he had come to the conclusion that he was afraid that he was _not_ afraid.

If he was not afraid, and he was not angry, why was he feeling this way? He should’ve been thinking of poor Morgana, his sister that might be lost to him forever, and instead he spent his time thinking about why he didn’t want to think about Merlin.

He could hardly remember what he had said to the man earlier. He had been upset that Merlin wasn’t as simple, wasn’t as evil and he should’ve been, and yet; he couldn’t think that way at all. Merlin was evil, except he wasn’t, but he should have been, and yet, Arthur didn’t want him to be. That was very concerning.

So, he was already fatigued walking up to breakfast. This time it was Leon assisted Morgana up the stairs, and she was decently pliable. It was like watching a ghost. It was only when they had reached the table, and Merlin had rushed in, that Morgana shrieked.

“Oh- darling! My love, I missed you so much.” She threw her arms around him.

He was dressed in fitted leather clothes, appropriate for riding, a swath of dark blue cloth draped over his forearm. Arthur’s eyes widened. This was the first time he had seen him in fitted clothes, he realized. The outfit highlighted broad shoulders, a thin waist, and it was a lot to absorb all at once. The prince realized he had been tuned out of the real world and had missed the interaction between Merlin and Morgana.

Whatever Merlin had said, it worked. Morgana was calm, holding onto his upper arm as he guided her to the table. Arthur almost caught himself making a sound in his throat, some sort of acknowledgement, that he- and this came with a rush of horror- would also grab onto that bicep if he had the excuse.

He froze. There was no time to process his feelings because Merlin was looking at him funny.

“Morning, cabbage head. Feeling better after your temper tantrum last night?” This was not the plan.

Merlin had genuinely considered sucking it up and being the adult. He thought of ways to apologize, to explain his behaviour and express his understanding of Arthur’s situation. As soon as he saw the prince, it was impossible to resist the urge. He had stared at Merlin, with an indiscernible look on his face. It felt so much more natural, more fun, to be a bitch.

“I feel great.” Arthur snapped. He took a seat at the table, where another unappetizing bowl of porridge was. That wasn’t a good comeback, but he had always found himself slow to this type of dance. Also, in his defence, his brain had gone on vacation twenty seconds prior. He had to think of something else.

“You look stupid this morning.” He almost winced, realizing at the last moment it would have been better to refrain from commenting on his appearance, for the foreseeable forever.

Merlin raised his eyebrows appraisingly, before settling into a cute lopsided smirk. Except, it was not cute and Arthur was not thinking that. 

“Checking me out, are you?”

“Not that I don’t enjoy you guys flirting, but could we maybe hear about what the journey will be like?” Leon butted in. He was impatient this morning.

Arthur blanched, and alternatively, Merlin flushed. At least, the prince thought he was flushing, but he also couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. He stared at his bowl of sludge. Leon had a point; he should be more focused on what he was there to do.

“We’ll go straight across the river to get to Avalon. It’s directly north of here. If we make good time, we can be on the river before nightfall. From there, it’s not as fun. Past the Crystal Valley is the Weeping Wood, and we might have to camp there too. I don’t know how to prepare you for that.”

Arthur and Leon were watching Merlin’s awkward hand movements. One of his hands was occupied with Morgana. Arthur forgot his awkwardness, too intrigued by what Merlin had to say.

“It’s just not pleasant.” He shook his head, absently. “Lake Avalon is in the middle of the Weeping Wood. I’m just waiting on an update from Janice, and when Gwaine comes back with some horses we can be on our way.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gays in your 'hood? its more likely than u think.  
> for real though why am I writing this instead of doing my work...   
> its because I'm depressed. mental health relapse? its more likely than u think.   
> sometimes u just gotta go to the beach at 10pm and sing jazz standards into the smokey night
> 
> Also: can someone help me with a description? like FUCK if I know what to write. this is clearly not as strange magic AU as more prompt and I just-? 
> 
> Also: Merlin is 100% drama queen who's moody and shifty about liking other people, whereas Arthur avoids thinking about anything other than swords. its not like he's capable of thinking around the people he likes anyway. that's essentially canon

The horses were all white. Leon raised an eye when Gwaine approached with them. Truthfully, they were grey, but with a white coat. Still, not the most inconspicuous shade.

“Be honest with me, will we make it to the river in one piece?” Gwaine handed the reins of one of the horses to Leon. The knight adjusted his saddle.

Gwaine blew a hair out of his face, forgoing the usual ponytail. “Honestly, we’ll be lucky. Merlin attracts every bloody thing in the forest, good and bad.”

He beckoned the knight closer, to whisper, despite the fact that Merlin and Arthur were several feet away. “I have a feeling the forest won’t want us to travel too fast. Then again, you never know with Merlin.”

Arthur was approaching, so they quickly turned away.

“What are you guys talking about?” The prince had seen them huddling together, and he didn’t like to be kept out of the loop.

Half an hour ago Janice- an impossibly dark fairy, as tall as Arthur- had brought them news that Prince Thomas had crossed the border on the other side of Camelot, and was possibly just headed home. She had whispered some more, glancing over at Arthur pointedly, while she covered Merlin’s ear with her hand.

In all fairness, Arthur had been staring at her in disbelief, so she may have just been warry. There were the wings, of course, but it was how fit she was that concerned him. He thought of the pros and cons of knighting a fairy. He was still upset that things were being kept from him.

Leon glanced between them. That’s right, he should at least put up the pretense that it was them against magic.

“We were discussing what kind of trouble we might run into in the forest, sire.” Arthur frowned.

“Leon, honestly. Stop with the titles, we’re practically brothers. Plus, Merlin says I’m not a prince on this side of the border so I have to prepare my own saddle.”

He shook his head and spoke in a mocking higher pitch. It wasn’t like he hadn’t prepared his own horse before, in fact, he preferred it. Leave it to Merlin to make him feel self conscious about every move.

He was still not thinking of how hot Merlin looked in the dark leather. He had his cloak on now, and that was his mental barrier. He’d think about it when he was far away from this place and no longer smoking the fumes. He wasn’t even sure he liked men- but then again that would involve thinking about it. Which he wasn’t doing.

“Alright.” Leon nodded, stifling a laugh. He’d admit, he did not see whatever was happening between Arthur and the wizard at first, but now it was everywhere.

He hadn’t seen the prince act like this before. Arthur alternated between staring at Merlin, or purposefully not looking at him at all. He would shift his weight whenever the man came close, even before acknowledging him. Mostly, it was the commentary. Arthur was a prince, so he knew decorum and falsities; and Merlin, whenever he spoke to Leon, came across as polite at the very least. When thrown together, they were reduced to bickering wives.

Gwaine tossed Arthur the reins to his horse. “I’ve already done most of the work, princess.”

Arthur grunted.

Merlin walked over with his own horse. They still had to arrange their travel packs. He was getting busy now, thinking of the logistics of the days ahead. He owed Gaius three life sentences now, and the man was still happy to help take care of Morgana for a few days. It was grim to think about, but she would starve herself if left alone.

Janice had told him of the rumours that Thomas was building an army. They were only rumours, but he felt as if it also might have been their only warning. It wasn’t clear if Thomas was planning to attack Camelot, or just intimidate them. Without heirs, the kingdom was a little unsteady at the moment. He wasn’t going to tell either knight just yet; Janice would come to him with more information if the threat was real. Until then, he had the pretense of hating the prince to put up.

“Are we almost ready to go?” There was another concern.

As soon as he stepped foot in the forest, flowers stood straighter, leaves unfurled, butterflies appeared from nowhere- and that was if it was a passive day. He tried to reason with the forest, but that only led to more touching, flower bunches in apology, birds singing at his window. Unfortunately, he was a Disney princess.

Arthur was trying not to stare, but a tall unfamiliar flower was knocking on Merlin’s shoulder with a long leaf. Leon was staring, unabashed, with his jaw dropped.

Gwaine just laughed, “it appears you’ve got a guest, mate.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, shrugging off whatever leafy green was tapping his shoulder. “They never leave me alone.”

Arthur had a lot of questions to ask about Merlin’s relationship with the forest, with the dragon. It would have to wait for when it was easier to focus on him without the conflicting feelings. As it was, he couldn’t help watching as Merlin tried to hoist himself on his horse. The grass at his feet was tugging on his leg. He almost fell, then yelped and pointed an angry finger towards the ground. The prince stared on incredulously because somehow the grass looked ashamed.

Leon shook his head. Arthur was too focused on the other man to notice his own legs were being molested by tall grasses. They weren’t wrapping and tugging so much as caressing. Too gentle to be felt.

* * *

Arthur noticed him shuffling now and then, a few paces ahead of the two knights. He resolutely did not look at Merlin’s back, despite the length of fabric hiding most everything. He focused on watching the ground ahead, which turned out to be interesting enough. For the first hour, the forest was quiet. Both Merlin and Arthur were half asleep, and Leon wasn’t in the mood for discussion. This meant Gwaine was suffering from incredible boredom, as he was not one to enjoy quiet rides.

The longer the prince looked, the clearer it was that the forest had a reaction to the wizard. He noticed flying bugs and excited flowers, but it was more than that. The leaves of the trees rustled quietly above them, but there was no wind. Bushes and branches leaned out of the way as they walked past. On top of that, he noticed it paid attention to him as well.

A few times now, there had been branches and vines that draped across his arms when he went by. It didn’t happen to Leon or Gwaine either. Merlin, of course, was fighting them off. He still wasn’t used to plants acting like humans, so every time it happened, he jolted a bit. It was clearly intentional, as the leaves supernaturally curled around his wrist just gently, placating. Despite the prince’s understanding of magic as a propagator of evil, he kind of enjoyed it.

Merlin was tired of it. The forest never quit. It was why he didn’t go outside as much as he used to. He could hardly remember what life was like before, when the forest hadn’t been magical. He didn’t try to think about it either. Now, all he knew was that the forest made him sad, in a bittersweet way.

Anywhere he turned, trees blossomed, fruit grew. It was approaching winter, for fuck’s sake. He understood that the forest felt a need to soothe, to maybe prove its worth, but it was a little ridiculous. He groaned and hung his head when apples grew near, and his horse stopped at the invitation.

Arthur looked up at the sound, and at the same time, Gwaine paused to fall into step beside him. He looked over at him.

“Merlin always struggles with the forest, but it’s actually been okay so far. There was this one time we were headed to the river and it was overcrowded. Merlin wouldn’t let me take a sword to cut through it either, so we crawled our way there.”

“I’ve never heard of a forest that changes so drastically. I mean,” Arthur shook his head, “I haven’t heard of another enchanted forest either, but it’s strange, isn’t it? It hardly seems sinister.”

There, he admitted it. Maybe the magic of the forest wasn’t evil in nature. Was it a fluke, or an exception? He had no idea, he barely understood anything that happened around him. The longer he was here, the more it dawned on him that he had no experience with anything magical. His father was so sure, so convinced that magic was the root of all evil. Arthur had never questioned it for himself.

“Sinister? God, no. Maybe a scorned lover, more like. Keeps trying to get back together with Merlin.”

“I can see that.” The three of them watched a vine drape over Merlin’s shoulder; he swatted it away.

Pleased to have an excuse, but somehow also dreading his movements, he skipped ahead to fall beside Merlin. It might not have been the best idea to decrease the distance between them given it seemed directly proportional to Arthur’s capacity to think. It was certainly a risk on his part, but curiosity got the best of him.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Clearly.” Merlin spat out, more upset than Arthur had expected. He was wrestling with the vine that threatened to stop his trot altogether as it tugged him away from his horse.

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and the plants around him recoiled.

“Why do they like you so much?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. It felt like a dangerous game, to look at the wizard. He didn’t dare look at his face too long, instead choosing to focus on his shoulder, covered in the blue fabric that emphasized his eyes and his hair colour- and perhaps it was too dangerous to look there as well.

“Mind your own business,” Merlin said between gritted teeth. Arthur scoffed.

“Sorry for trying to make polite conversation.”

“You wouldn’t know polite conversation if it smacked you on the ass.” Arthur scoffed again, actually pressing his shoulders back as if recoiling in the same manners the plants did to his attack.

“I was going to apologize for what I said last night, but clearly I knew what I was talking about.”

“You don’t know shit about me, Pendragon.” Arthur bristled. Merlin was more aggressive than before, somehow.

Merlin was having a very bad time. He was feeling very small, and pathetic. The forest was desperate for him, he knew, but it sucked. On top of the bitter sadness, was the conscious itch of the prince in his surroundings. It was a taste of hell, to have him around. He couldn’t just forget he was there like he had with Leon. Arthur was beyond annoying, even when he was silent. The worst part was that it wasn’t the prince’s fault. Ultimately, if Merlin was experiencing the most embarrassing kind of unrequited attraction, it was his fault. 

“Wow, I wonder what polite conversation is for?” Arthur struggled not to smile outwardly. It was horribly fun to have someone to snipe at.

“Oh, now you want to get to know me? I thought you knew I was evil, because, you know,” he turned to Arthur, raising his eyebrows, “I’m magic.”

“Explain to me how you can be magic. I thought sorcerers _have_ magic.” They both looked ahead, feeling a bit more comfortable with their proximity. Strangely, it was as if their mutual audacity brought them onto familiar ground.

“I’m just impressed you know the grammatical difference.”

“Well, it may be hard to believe, but I speak English.”

Gwaine and Leon were watching from behind. Little blue flowers grew in front of them, in the pair’s footsteps. They could hear everything and were equally amused and miffed that they were being completely ignored.

Gwaine leaned over, as far as his center of gravity allowed him, to whisper, “We ship them, right?”

Leon's eyebrows curled upwards. “We do _what_?”

Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows, trying to convey the meaning. “I’ll bet you three drinks and this horse that they get together before you lot leave the forest.”

Leon chewed on that, considering that he didn’t need another horse, if these were indeed Gwaine’s to give away, and he had even less use for the drinks. Then again, maybe he could use a trip to the tavern after all this. If they ever left the forest.

“I wouldn’t be too sure. Arthur’s a bit dull when it comes to understanding his emotions.” He whispered back.

Gwaine nodded, appreciatively. “Merlin’s dumb as a rock, too.”

Indeed, he was.

* * *

“So, _ancient one_ , how much longer until we reach the river?” Arthur mocked Merlin’s earlier comment.

Merlin glared at him. “I told you it’s a name found in text. I told you I would _smite_ you if you repeated it.”

Arthur kept begging for information about Merlin’s magic, but he wasn’t in the mood to share the details. It would be hard to explain one thing without diving into the whole story of why he is the way he is now, and that was just too personal. He had to remind himself that Arthur saw him as the enemy and that his introspection was probably more or less an investigative technique.

He thought it would safe to explain how some magic users were scholars and scribes that protected information and history. He didn’t say anything about the druids, who passed down stories and information with their oral tradition, because then he’d have to explain another annoying name he’d been called- one that also revealed a little too much. They were lucky that the druidic camps were far East of Avalon.

Arthur snapped his fingers obnoxiously. “Pay attention, Merlin. River? When?”

Merlin raised two fingers to his forehead, closing his eyes and leaning forward. He snapped his eyes open a moment later.

“Oh, for fucking- I told you, oh _idiot_ one, we’ll be there before sundown. Asking me a seventh time isn’t going to make the time go faster.” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“That would be helpful, M _er_ lin, if we had any mechanism for keeping time.”

“Sun,” Merlin raised his hands in front of him, narrating slowly, “is up.” He pointed up.

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes again, shaking his head. His odd panic of the morning was long forgotten. If there was anything attractive about the wizard, it was foreshadowed by how annoying he was.

“Sun,” Merlin nodded seriously, “come down.”

Gwaine butt in, “don’t you think that’s a little too advanced for him?”

Merlin laughed, a brilliant smile overtaking his face. Arthur felt his stomach clench, and he swallowed. For an ‘ancient’ being who belonged in folklore, the wizard was stupidly cute. He looked all too young, gleeful and mischievous. It was horrible. Arthur couldn’t look away. He was definitely scowling though.

This had been easier when Arthur was sure he was evil.

Merlin threw a look over his shoulder, to Gwaine. “Even a dollophead’s got to learn at some point.”

The prince glared, his mouth open ready to rebuttal, but faltering. “What’s a dollophead?”

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up, a picture of innocence. “In two words?”

* * *

Merlin and Arthur’s horses were now as close as logically acceptable. Merlin sent a bemused look.“…and that’s how I become Camelot’s youngest knight.”

“I call bullshit. I bet you’re so bad at sword fighting that your father hired him.” Leon sighed exasperatedly behind them, wishing he could claw out his eyes.

“Hired the butcher? Of course, he did- Merlin I don’t think you understand how employment works-”

“No, you idiot. Hired him to attack you and fail miserably, to make you feel better, obviously.” Gwaine rolled his eyes and mimicked sticking a finger in his mouth to gag himself. The two were none the wiser.

Arthur laughed. “My father didn’t know I was sneaking in more practise. If I didn’t have my sword on hand I might have actually died.”

“He probably let you get away with it because you were so bad at sword fighting.”

“I’ll have you know; I won every tournament!” Merlin clucked his tongue.

“In your father’s kingdom? What a surprise.”

Arthur huffed. “I’d like to see you pick up a sword, you’d probably stab yourself on accident.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

Leon was slumped forward on his horse, praying for a swift death. The gravity of their journey had dissipated with time, now on their fifth hour. His ass was sore, despite being used to long journeys. He had run out of water half an hour ago, and the idiots in front of him wouldn’t shut up.

The forest had been more passive in its obsession with the wizard, but in turn, it was paying attention to the prince. Leon wondered if he knew how ridiculous they looked, with shrubbery and branches purposefully brushing their arms, pushing them closer. As if they could get closer. They’d have to be on the same horse. The older knight just wanted ten minutes of silence.

“How do you protect yourself? What weapon do you fashion out of magic?”

“You mean on my common nefarious endeavours? I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Arthur turned to look at Merlin. He had a soft smile on his face.

“I don’t fight, idiot. If anyone as stupid as you tries to attack me, I just jump out of the way.”

Gwaine dramatically slumped forward onto his horse, mimicking Leon, but going further and laying his head down on the horse’s neck. At first, it was cute. Now he was just wondering how they hadn’t run out of words. The forest floor was getting thicker, and their pace only slowed, gradually, throughout the day.

Leon glanced at him, nodding sympathetically.

“You know what I think?”

Merlin gasped, mockingly. “Arthur, I didn’t know you thought.”

Leon bit his lip to keep from laughing. A butterfly flew across their path.

“I know,” he replied, in the same breathy, sarcastic tone, “I was shocked too. I think you like to push people around with invisible wind-”

“Wind is _already_ invisible.” Merlin rolled his eyes.

“-and scare them away with your _horrible_ personality-”

“Is it working?” Merlin snarked.

“-so that you don’t have to hit anyone.”

“ _No_ \- what gave you that idea?”

“Because you’re afraid you don’t know your own strength.” Merlin froze.

He didn’t have a comment for that. It was too close to the mark. The problem was, he did know his own strength- or he had at one point.

Arthur noticed the mood drop. He almost cursed aloud. He hadn’t meant to make things awkward, but he was hoping to hear more backstory from Merlin. They had been having impolite conversation about harmless stories they could throw around, in between Arthur’s more personal questions. He had avoided talking about his family, his past, his magic.

The prince wanted to understand. Merlin didn’t sound like he had an agenda, nor did he sound like he wished to smite Arthur where he stood because he was Pendragon- despite his threats- which only left more questions. All his life he had been taught sorcerers were soulless demons possessed with magic, but clearly things were more complicated. Arthur would be willing to accept Merlin wasn’t evil if he could know about him, where he came from. He didn’t want to rely on the benefit of the doubt.

Merlin was quiet.

“I don’t have much magic.” He settled on whispering. The prince’s face twisted in disbelief. Both Leon and Gwaine were now paying attention, frowning at Merlin.

“I thought you _were_ magic?”

“We’re almost there.” He changed the subject.

Arthur stifled a yawn. He was tired, his throat was a little sore, and he was conflicted. He wasn’t going to pressure Merlin into answering yet. He barely had a grasp on what it was he wanted from the man, and clearly, they were going to be going their separate ways at the end. He was also, just the tiniest bit, wary of him. Despite his previous statement, Arthur was sure Merlin could still turn him into a frog- as he had threatened to do so earlier.

There was a reason he wasn’t forthcoming, and strangely, Arthur hoped the reason wasn’t that Merlin was actually evil. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he knew the meaning, anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's this scene :))) i thought of this so long ago, but now I've finally written it. the way I rearranged the story makes it so the boat scene isn't as personal as it could've been, because our main dudes aren't that close yet, but this has always been in the makings >:) also how the FUCK have I written this much. like my mental deadline for this chapter used to be before December... also writing this reminds me of when I had a crush that I 'hated' on principle and then accidentally made eye contact with once, and realized I was FUCKed over them... like that's exactly what I'm trying to write for them

Merlin was right, it wasn’t long before they reached the shoreline.

Arthur had vastly underestimated how wide the river was. The tree line stopped at the edge of a long beach, with white sand. The shoreline was a slow-moving water’s edge, clear and sharp. The water itself was an unfamiliar shade of aquamarine in the forefront of a dusk violet sky. The worst part was that it glowed faintly.

“This is water?” Arthur asked, breaking the awkward silence.

They got off their horses, not paying attention to the long vines that wrapped around their legs, their own feet planted in the sand.

Merlin smiled. It had been a while since he visited. “It’s a lot of water. The glow is from the Crystal Valley.”

Gwaine yawned, stretching his limbs out wide.

Leon bent down to feel the sand between his fingers. The grains were coarse and dry. He noticed that it vaguely looked like salt. He sniffed it. It was not salt.

Arthur frowned. “That makes no sense.”

Merlin sighed. He had already explained that the peaks in view on the other side of the river comprised the Crystal Valley. The river split off into the mountains, flowing through the region’s namesake. From where they were, to an unfamiliar eye, it was easy to pass them off as average stony hills.

“The stone of the Crystal Valley is imbedded with glowing crystals, which erode over time, producing a ridiculous amount of glowing pebbles, which sit on the river bed. That’s where the glow is coming from.”

“Uh- I don’t mean to ruin the mood, but how are we going to get across?” Leon but in, before Arthur, whose face had scrunched up ready to ask another stupid question, could say anything.

Merlin rubbed his hands together, before blowing in the space between them. He walked towards the water, the cloak waving gently behind him. He leant over and dipped his fingers in the water. The water around his fingers started glowing more intensely, the glow then bleeding through the water like paint.

It was quiet. Unlike the forest where the occasional cricket or rustling could be heard- on top of the exaggerated waltz of the flowers- there was nothing to fill the space. The movement of the water was so gentle, with no wind kissing the air.

He straightened, letting his shoulders drop. He inhaled, eyes closed, waiting for the blood to rush back to his head. It just never got easier.

When he turned, Arthur noticed he looked sick. Drastically different, like a corpse, his cheeks hollower than before, bags under his eyes. He looked as if the life had been sucked out of him.

“It’s poisoned?” His legs muscles clenched, ready to run to Merlin and- do something, he wasn’t sure what. It was a fleeting instinct. Incredibly, the colour was already returning to the wizard’s face. In real-time, he watched his cheeks fill out- relatively. That man’s cheekbones were offensive.

Arthur paused.

Gwaine watched with a solemn expression, answering quietly, “the Crystal Valley absorbs magic.”

“What?” Arthur turned to Gwaine; his jaw dropped. Then he turned to Merlin.

“What!” Again, louder. It was all he could think of saying. Leon stared at the water, wary.

Merlin scoffed, irritated. He almost forgot how annoying the prince was, assuming the prince was afraid for his own life.

“Don’t worry, the water won’t hurt you.” Arthur was confused.

There were many things left for the prince to be confused about. He didn’t understand how the water absorbed magic, or why Merlin was so ambiguous, or why the day had felt so short- and he definitely didn’t understand why he was worried about Merlin. The feeling was gone now, anyway. But, now that he mentioned it, he wasn’t excited to get on the water.

Leon didn’t get the opportunity to ask again, because there was a disturbance in the water.

A column of water shot up, before materializing into the form of a woman. She was petite, with long dark curls that dripped into the river. A sheet that Arthur did not think was actual fabric hung off her shoulders, but it didn’t cover anything, and she was otherwise naked. For some reason, he was more concerned about the ‘materializing from water’ part.

“Merlin! I thought that was you.” She smiled. That was when Arthur realized she was pretty.

“Gwen!” Merlin and Gwaine were both beaming, an inch from the waterline. The knights were a meter back, suspicious.

“How do you get more beautiful every time I see you?” Gwaine batted his eyelashes at her.

She smiled, closed-lipped. “I will drown you.”

Behind them, Arthur and Leon’s eyes widened, jaws dropped, hand at their hilts. Merlin laughed.

“Could we please get across?” Arthur couldn’t see Merlin’s face, but his voice was almost unrecognizable. It was light and sweet.

His hand dropped from his sword.

“Of course!” She locked eyes with Arthur, before looking at Leon. Leon was staring uncomfortably at the border between the water and the lady, where her legs became water, feet nonexistent.

“You have guests?”

Arthur stepped forward. He almost offered his hand, before he realized that she clearly wasn’t human and that might not have been a good idea.

“Arthur,” he nodded, “thank you for letting us cross.” He smiled awkwardly. He was trying to be polite but honestly knew fuck all about what was going on.

She beamed, and the prince was struck again by how ridiculously pretty she was. It was difficult to determine how dangerous she was because her smile was far too disarming.

“Arthur, nice to meet you.” She bent the slightest into a curtsey. Arthur averted his eyes, rationalizing that his awkwardness with her nudity was his problem, but still unable to casually glance over. “I’m Guinevere but all my friends call me Gwen. And you?”

She tilted her head towards Leon, clasping her hands together beneath her chin.

He shook his head, before looking her in the eyes. “Leon.” He nodded, “hello, Guinevere.”

Guinevere laughed, “You can call me Gwen, silly. Any friend of Merlin’s is a friend of mine. Well,” she sent a malicious smile Gwaine’s way, “Gwaine’s on thin ice.”

Arthur laughed nervously, still unsure to what degree he should be threatened by her.

“She’s a nymph.” Merlin noticed their discomfort, and he stared at them, unimpressed. Well, it was Arthur he was glaring at. He didn’t have a problem with Leon.

Gwen jerked her head towards Merlin, water droplets flicking off her. “They’re not from the forest?”

He shook his head gently, glaring off into the distance. 

She smiled apologetically at them. “I’m a river nymph. I can guide you across the river so you don’t have to get wet.” She winked.

The knights had never heard of the word. Arthur only had more questions.

“For you Gwen, I’d get wet.” Gwaine winked at her, but his smile was less flirty and more scoundrel.

“You don’t have any magic, you ruffian.” Gwen’s voice was fond, if exasperated. Arthur considered that he knew nothing of their relationship, but the three of them seemed close.

Arthur’s gaze found its way to Merlin, again. He looked as he had before he touched the water, his cloak dark in the evening light. The sun was setting behind him, and it gave him a back glow, as he stared dramatically out to the peaks. His fists were clenched. The prince didn’t understand why Merlin had this upset with the world complex. It gave him the excuse to stare.

“Two boats, then?” Gwen waved her hands up, and two mounds of water grew and filled out into small boats. They solidified into a murky green. Arthur was once again struck by unfamiliar all of this was. What the hell were the boats made of, honestly.

“You and Merlin in that one and me and Leon will go in the other one,” Gwaine said, with a faux innocent expression.

They jumped into offensive positions as if prepared to fight for their honour, “Why me and Arthur?”

“Why can’t I go with Leon?” The two glared open-mouthed at him.

Leon did not look surprised, nor upset by Gwaine’s suggestion. He was focused more on the logistics of getting into the water. If he put in one leg, well but then his balance would be off and he could fall.

Gwaine shook his head at Merlin, as if scolding a small child. “They’ve never been on the water before,” he raised his eyebrows, “they need a guide.”

Arthur tilted his head to the side, confused.

Merlin was glaring at Gwaine, almost shaking. He couldn’t admit to being uncomfortable so close to the prince without admitting that he felt _uncomfortable so close to the prince_. It was not because he liked him, because he didn’t, but there was something to be said about proximity to a himbo.

Gwen was watching with wide eyes, glancing between Gwaine and Merlin. If Arthur had been watching, he would’ve spotted the moment she understood, for her eyes grew wider still, before she smiled.

“I was just going to recommend that, given weight distribution and- and water flow.” Absolute bullshit.

Arthur’s jaw dropped. “Are you calling me fat? Because I know you’re not talking about Merlin.”

“Just get your fat ass in the boat.” Merlin wasn’t about to explain that his friends were trying to push them together. They were fools, and he neither wanted nor needed their encouragement. He didn’t want to spend more time than necessary with the prince, and that meant less time arguing about boating arrangements.

Leon watched as Arthur went abruptly from seething, offended, to a soft, blank expression. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but then the prince jumped into one of the boats. It swung beneath his weight, before Gwen stilled it abruptly. Arthur almost fell off the side.

Gwaine stifled a laugh. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Now that I’ve got the boats straight, would you lads like to hop in?”

Arthur had been prepared to argue his case before he realized there was none. He wouldn’t want to admit it aloud, but he didn’t mind sitting next to him. Merlin clearly had a problem with him, which didn’t bother him at all- truly. It made sense; Arthur hadn’t been the nicest person to him. He was supposed to have a problem with Merlin too, but that was getting harder to remember.

* * *

Leon stifled a yawn, two meters away. Gwen was walking beside them, guiding the boats with some kind of strange magic. Arthur didn’t follow the logic behind that- if that water absorbed magic, how could magic be used around it, or- he also had the feeling he had asked too many questions today. The Crystal Valley was the most beautiful place Arthur had ever seen. The longer they spent floating gently towards it, the taller the mountains grew. The stone was imbedded, if not mostly composed of, large geometric crystals, glowing faint indigo. The dusk sky grew only darker, and the water more striking. He could see some large colourful fish beneath him, the depth of the water unknown, but the river bed was no longer visible.

“It’s so nice to be back on the water,” Gwaine commented, absently. He was also struggling to keep his eyes open.

“How long has it been?” Merlin murmured. He had his head lazily cradled in his arms.

Gwaine raised an eyebrow, counting silently on his fingers.

“It’s been two years Gwaine, what are you counting?” Gwen laughed, seating herself on the water, her chin in her palm. She was still moving with the boats.

“It’s been two years since you visited the river?” Arthur asked. He noticed Leon had actually fallen asleep, slumped forward awkwardly. He winced.

Gwaine glanced to his side. He grimaced, and lightly pushed Leon to lie more on his side. The knight opened his eyes, blinking angrily. It took him a moment to remember what was going on, but then he adjusted himself and closed his eyes again. He wasn’t staying up for storytime then.

“Nah, I’ve visited since then, but. I used to live on the water. Sadly, piracy doesn’t work that well when all you want to steal are people’s hearts.” He winked towards Gwen.

“Oh, you’ve certainly stolen a few of those.” She glared at him playfully.

“Piracy? How big is the river?” Arthur shuffled to face Gwaine, as Merlin had been sitting behind him.

“A few days ride, far West, the river meets the Blue Sea, and Northwest of that there’s just more water- ‘til the horizon.”

Arthur’s world had expanded so much in the past few days. He had no idea Camelot was so close to large bodies of water. The maps of Camelot held nothing beyond the harsh borders, which were clearly indicated with deep red ink. For all his life he had had no expectations of the Dark Forest, writing it off as a place of evil- but also, in a way, an old wives’ tale. He had seen so much magic in the last few days, it was impossible to remember a time he had never known it.

His stomached dropped, and he looked down at his hands as if he had never seen them before. It hit him that he didn’t believe magic was inherently evil anymore. It felt ridiculous that he had ever believed that; his life in Camelot seemed like a faint dream.

He glanced over quickly. Merlin looked surreal with the water glowing in his eyes, dark blue, his hair black. There was no way he was evil- except that he could be. Well, he was grumpy- maybe morally ambiguous. Gwaine was easier to read at least- he was Merlin’s man. He wouldn’t wish them ill will unless the wizard did.

“I think your friend here had the right idea. I’m going to try to nod off.” Gwaine arranged himself so he was lying on his back, Leon’s cloak over his eyes. “Wake me when we’ve reached the valley.”

Gwen closed her eyes.

Merlin nervously looked over at the prince. It was the appropriate time to sleep, but he couldn’t imagine it so close to the prince. He had been a lot quieter, reserved, than he had been in the forest. It made him appear thoughtful, and that was bad because it was easier to ignore Arthur when he had just been a pretty face with a big mouth.

They both glanced up at the same time, made eye contact, and quickly looked away.

It must have been a small eternity, how long they stayed in silence. What they were waiting for, it was impossible to say. Arthur, unsurprisingly, was the one to break the silence.

“I’m usually attentive.”

“What?” Merlin met his gaze. They were whispering.

Arthur nodded, looking back out at the water. “As a knight, you have to be able to evaluate your situation in seconds and respond in even less. It’s part of our training.”

Merlin didn’t respond. Unlike before, Arthur didn’t sound like he gearing up to belittle or interrogate him. He sounded rather serious, and it alarmed him.

“I… magic isn’t as evil as I thought it was, or it’s not as straightforward as I was led to believe.”

Merlin couldn’t look away.

Arthur stared low at the water, and it lit his face in monocolour. He looked like a painting. His words were jarring, and Merlin couldn’t decide if he was offended or flattered, but for certain he was afraid- afraid of how glad he was. He wanted this moment, out on the water. He didn’t want it to end. 

“This is honestly, possibly the most beautiful place on earth.” He laughed, incredulously, breathy and quiet.

He looked over to the peaks and shook his head, “and it’s rock magic. I’m pretty sure rocks can’t be evil.”

“Magic is neither good nor bad.” The words came out slow but practised. It was an old tune.

“I- I can respect that, I never had experience with-” he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, struggling to articulate, “-anything magical. All of it was thrown over the border, forgotten. A myth.”

The reason Arthur crossed the border, his sister’s well being, the purpose behind everything; it sucked. If he allowed himself to feel the pressure, he’d crumble. Losing Morgana still felt deniable, like he could close his eyes and pretend he was here for fun.

He met Merlin’s gaze; his stare unreadable. “I might have never seen this place, never met you, because… I don’t understand how my father became so – against it.”

“From my understanding, Uther was always destined to rid Camelot of magic.” Merlin’s face was solemn, his tone low.

“But why? What happened to my mother?” Arthur pouted, just slightly, his eyes troubled. He was staring in a way that made him look young, guileless, and it was devastatingly sad. Though he was young in a way, so much more so than Merlin- so much more innocent than Merlin. It was not his story to tell, but none had yet. It was history.

“Your parents travelled through the forest, a lot when you were young. One day they ran into the Questing Beast. It bit you, and your mother traded her life for yours.”

It was a quick, crude re-telling, and Merlin cringed internally, but it was only the prequel.

“What?” The prince’s eyes widened. He hadn’t begun to absorb the information, to question if he should feel guilty, before Merlin spoke again.

“She loved you. She knew what she was doing she just didn’t know- no one knew what Uther would do.” His gaze wandered over to the sleeping men. Gwaine was snoring softly.

The prince had grown up without a mother and therefore didn’t have anyone to grieve. He wondered occasionally what it might have been like to have had a warm embrace, instead of his father’s distant discipline, but those were only thoughts, fluff that filled his head. It was easier, sometimes, to think he never had one at all. That was the saddest truth.

Arthur was still watching Merlin, with his creased forehead, his tensed jaw, “he banished all magic because of _that_?”

“Arthur,” Merlin shook his head, looking at Gwaine still, “he wanted- he was going to _purge_ magic from the lands.”

Arthur blinked.

Merlin turned to face him, his expression grave. “He wanted to burn every sorcerer- everything. I had to stop him. I told him that the enchanted forest wouldn’t burn before Camelot did, and he... accepted it. And that’s why magic is persecuted in Camelot.”

Arthur’s face fell, his mouth parted. His features twisted into confusion, anger, anguish, before turning away. He bit his lip.

It was a lot to absorb. For the first time in his life, his mother felt like a real character. His father, on the other hand, a stranger. He had known he was violent, a tyrant at times even- but this was something else. He had the fleeting thought that Merlin was lying to him, but couldn’t see how or why, so he dismissed it.

It was silent again. Arthur felt his eyelids droop, the weight of the day catching up with him.

It was with his eyes closed, that he said, “I misjudged you based on my father’s foolish sentiments. In another life, we may have been friends.”

Merlin smiled to himself, wary and amused by the warmth in his chest.

“Maybe if you weren’t an annoying prince.”

Arthur’s eyes shot open; his mouth opened in mock outrage. He huffed.

“Maybe if you weren’t an idiot.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t be sitting in this boat with you, would I.” Merlin shot him a sly look, leaning forward just enough to rest his head in his hand. He smirked.

Arthur’s pulse skyrocketed. Merlin was too close now, looking up at him, and he was struggling to think of anything- actually he was impressed he hadn’t stopped breathing entirely. Unbidden, he thought of how efficient this distance was for leaning over and-

He blushed, then narrowed his eyes accusingly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, leaning back. “Just go to sleep, Arthur.”

As if on cue, he yawned. He glared again at the wizard, before shuffling to find a comfortable sleeping arrangement. After a few minutes of fidgeting and shifting, Merlin’s foot was draped over his. He didn’t dare comment on it.

Gwen opened her eyes, smiling softly.


End file.
